Heads of the Dragon
by luckyeleven
Summary: Events taking place from the season 7 finale onwards. Mostly Jonerys one shots from what I think will happen in Season 8, but will feature other characters. Spoiler warning for everything that has happened in GoT so far!
1. Snow

It came to Dany's realization that this was the first time she truly made love. With Drogo it was mostly about pleasing him and at times it felt more like work than anything else. Daario was fun but there was no love there. This… this was different. She looked at him, Jon Snow, as she rested her head on his chest. She felt his shallow breaths on her skin coming and going like waves that hit the seashore, and they were little reminders that this was all real. She kept replaying the events of last night in her head, the way he knocked on her door and didn't need to say a word. The way his gaze never shifted to anything other than her own.

It was perfect, and she needed to be reminded that it was all real.

When she decided to pursue the Iron Throne she knew the path of a Queen would never be easy. A Queen rarely gets to truly experience love, family and all the simple things in life that bring people happiness. She knew she would have to sacrifice all those things, for it would always be about the greater good. Therefore, when Jon Snow entered her life, it felt like a block of ice hitting a ship in clear waters. The moment their eyes met as he stepped foot into her throne room in Dragonstone, she knew there was something different about this man. She felt it so strongly, as strong as the gut instinct that told her to enter Drogo's funeral pyre knowing she will come out unburnt. She tried to deny it, to avoid it, to busy herself with battle plans and defeating Cersei but deep in her heart there was only one thing on her mind.

 **She loved Jon Snow and there was no hiding from it.**

"I know you're staring at me," his voice interrupted her thoughts. He was the one now staring at her.

"I was not,"

"Mmm" he mumbled, pulling her in a little closer, holding her body like it was his last lifeline.

The sun's rays creeped through the curtains and she began to feel the warmth of it on her skin. She couldn't remember the last time she felt this warm. "We will be docking soon," she said. "Tell me about Winterfell,"

He looked at her and smiled. "Alright," he said, thinking for a moment. "I think the word that comes to mind when the average person thinks about winterfell is… gloomy," he paused. "But I think if you really looked hard enough you may find a bit of charm,"

"How lovely," she joked.

"I have many good memories there." Many bad ones too, but he tried not to dwell on them. "My brother Robb and I were close. We spent days on end sparring, shooting arrows, riding in the woods… He was my best friend,"

She saw his eyes change, a touch of sadness overcoming them. "Him and Rickon deserved better,"

Jon looked at her in surprise, he must have mentioned Rickon's death in passing ages ago but she remembered. He tried not to think of that day.

"What about your sisters?" she tried to change the subject.

He took a deep breath. "Arya was the closest to my heart,"

"Why was that?" She wanted so badly to know more about him and how he came to be himself.

"I think we bonded over being… different," he continued. "Sansa was the perfect little lady, she made beautiful dresses, had beautiful penmanship, a beautiful singing voice as well… Arya, on the other hand," he chuckled. "Arya was more like you,"

Her eyes widened. "How so?"

"She had no business in pleasing others and doing what she was told. She would sneak out her room at night to practice archery so no one would see. She knew what she wanted and she went for it." His face lit up when he talked about her.

Dany smiled. "I wasn't always like this you know," she said. "Before I had to learn how to be a Khaleesi, I was weak. So weak. Anything my brother told me to do, I would do without a question. I was afraid to speak up to him. Even when he said he would let a tribe of horselords rape me, I was afraid to speak up."

Jon shuddered at the thought. He was lucky to at least have a family with siblings that loved him. The only family Dany ever knew was a fucked up brother who sold her off like a piece of meat.

"But those experiences shaped you," he mused. "You wouldn't be who you are today without them."

She nodded, also trying to not think too much about her past. "Anyway," she cleared her throat. "You said you bonded over being different… how were you different?"

"Well you know…" he said, his voice now took a lower tone. "I was the bastard of Winterfell, and Lady Stark made sure to remind me of it everyday I was there."

Her heart broke a little at the thought of a young Jon being mistreated. "Is that why you joined the night's watch?"

He took a pause and tried to gather his thoughts. Till this day he never really knew the full extent of why he took the black. "One of the reasons," he eventually replied.

"I am really looking forward to meeting them," she tried to end the conversation on a more positive note.

He sighed and kissed her forehead. "Me too."

* * *

The arrival to White Harbor took longer than expected and it wasn't until next morning when the ship docked in. Most of the people who were on the ship had left already, but Jon stayed behind, waiting patiently for Dany to pull on another layer of furs. They had barely left the room since the moment they stepped foot in it, and Jon took a moment to look around it before they left, for it would always mean something to them.

"Jon this is silly, " she mumbled. "This isn't the first time I see snow,"

"This is your second time, and the first time was definitely not a pleasant experience. Truly, it can be very beautiful…"

"and cold, and harsh, and relentless…"

He rolled his eyes. "Come on, we can discuss the details later,"

She smiled, securing her cloak with two pins; a direwolf and a three headed dragon. _You need to fit in,_ he said as he gave her the pin earlier that day. _It will ease the situation when they see you, a silver haired girl marked with the Stark sigil_ _._ Indeed, she felt proud to wear them both.

She finally made her way to the door. "Okay, I'm ready."

"Close your eyes."

"And you will make sure I won't fall off the ship as I tread with only four of my senses?"

He slipped his hand into hers, still getting used to that shock of feeling he always got whenever he touched her. "Do you trust me?"

She closed her eyes.

He lead her to the upper decks carefully and they both braced themselves when he opened the door and a wave of cold air hit them. Although he had only been in the south for a couple months, the cold still shocked him as it sent shivers down his spine.

Finally, they arrived. "Here you are, my Queen."

She opened her eyes only to have the harsh white light of winter forced her to squint them. Her breath caught in wonder as she took it all in. The snow lay thickly drifted on the rooftops of the abandoned buildings, on the spears of the gates, and on what was left of the trees and plants. It was comic to behold, straight out of a book of fairy tales.

"It's… stunning," she said.

She watched her surroundings while he watched her. The delicate flakes fell down from the sky to mesh into her bright hair and land light as air on her eyelashes. It was the most beautiful image he had ever laid eyes on.

He shook himself out of it. "Come on. Our carriages are waiting,"

"Carriages?"

He gave her hand a squeeze. "A carriage."

"You two seem to be enjoying yourselves," Tyrion said, waiting for them along with other crew members. They had almost forgotten that other people existed in the world, for the last two nights belonged solely to them.

Dany quickly let go of Jon's hand, although she knew there was no use to it as Tyrion must have seen them from the beginning. Tyrion always seems to… see everything. She remembered his words. _I suppose he's staring at you longingly because he's hopeful for a successful military alliance_.

"I was just admiring the snow…" she said, her eyes shifting more towards Jon than the actual snow.

"Of course," Tyrion mused. "I'll take my own carriage if that's alright."

* * *

 **Thank you for reading everyone!**

Would like to credit the Tumblr user blue-roses-in-a-wall-of-ice for inspiring the ending of this chapter and allowing me to use a few snippets from her own work.

Stay tuned, for **jonerys **is cannon!


	2. Winterfell

_Dany_

It was yet another cold and snowy day in Winterfell when the young couple arrived. As the carriages moved across the uneven roads Dany tried to picture Jon as a boy growing up in this cold place. She knew it wasn't always this cold, but it was still a stark difference to the childhood she had. When she was young she entertained the idea that the little house in Braavos with the red door and the lemon tree would be the only home she would ever know. That she, along with Viserys and Ser Willem Darry, would stay there forever, as a family. But the Gods had always been cruel to her, taking Ser Willem from her at the tender age of five and leaving her with a brother who she loved and hated at the same time. After that, Dany was always on the move. They lived in nearly all the Free Cities; Myr, Tyrosh, Qohor, Volantis, and Lys… they all blended into one in her mind. All were beautiful and warm places where the sun would only disappear from the sky for a few hours at a time but they were so very lonely nonetheless.

The sound of the trumpets signaling their arrival interrupted her stream of thought, and the carriage stopped soon after.

"It will be fine," Jon said, giving her hand a squeeze.

The night before Jon told her why he admired her. He talked about her strength and how she didn't feel the need to please everyone around her. _Where was that strength today, in this very moment?_ All she could think about was how much she wanted the Starks and the rest of the Northerners to accept her … _Is this what love does to a person?_

She sighed and took a moment to look Jon in the eyes. They were so kind.

"All right, lets go."

* * *

 _Sansa_

Sansa Stark had certainly gotten used to being Lady of Winterfell and having observed how her parents welcomed guests to the castle when she was younger, she knew how to handle the arrival of the Dragon Queen and her fleet of dothraki and unsullied men. Or at least she hoped that she would know how to handle it. A raven had arrived that morning saying to expect more, but she didn't know who or how many. The supplies in Winterfell were running low, and there were not enough rooms, but this was a time of war and she knew Jon would understand. She needed so badly to talk to Jon, to understand what kept him in the south for so long, and more importantly to understand what role she would have now that he was back. She stood at the castle's entrance, with Arya and Bran at her side, and other members of the Northern houses behind them. The last time they stood like this was when King Robert arrived to Winterfell to ask her father to be hand, back when they were a family of seven. It felt like another life.

And then she heard it. A sound new to her ears, so unfamiliar yet she knew exactly what it was. Her gaze quickly shifted to the sky and there they were. Two dragons, yet another one of Old Nan's bedtime stories coming to life. A series of gasps from behind broke the silence in the court, and everyone was stunned. They were a lot larger than she had expected. But where was the third?

"Wow," Arya said, low enough so just her sister could hear. "Now that… that is amazing."

"You were always fascinated with them," Sansa remembered, her gaze still fixated on the magnificent beasts above. "I can see why."

Soon after that the people began to arrive; a multitude of carriages and men on horses. Her mind kept flashing back to that day, the day she first saw Joffrey and Cersei… the memories sent shivers down her spine. She shook herself out of it when they all came to a stop and she saw her brother again. It had just dawned on her that Arya and Bran have not seen him in years. Jon walked out of the carriage first and she could feel the tension in the air breaking, everyone was happy to see Jon… _the king of the north… can they still call him that?_

And right behind Jon, the Dragon Queen made an appearance. Sansa took a deep breath in as she observed the woman, for she had only heard about the Targaryens from stories and lessons with Maester Luwin. The silver hair was striking, and she finally understood why it was the first thing anyone would mention when describing a Targaryen. Indeed Littlefinger was right; Daenerys Targaryen was beautiful. _He was right about so many things._ The second thing she noticed was the direwolf pin on the young Queen's cloak, so carefully placed above a pin with a three headed dragon. She tried not to think about what it meant. All she knew was that she needed to speak with Jon as soon as possible.

Arya then stepped out of the line, walking towards the two of them. Immediately Sansa observed a few men on horses, who she assumed were the Dothraki, place their hands on their weapons. The movement appeared so natural to them; as if it was a reflex. Daenerys then held her hand to her side, a simple gesture that signaled to them to stand down. _A queen indeed._

* * *

 _Jon_

Jon stared at Arya as she walked towards him and he felt completely paralyzed. Was this the girl he bid farewell to many years ago? It had to be, as he saw the small pointy sword at her side. Undeniably, she was not that little girl anymore… her face was hardened, her eyes a shade darker, and her entire form revealed that she had seen and experienced things he could never imagine.

But the second her lips curled into a smile, he saw her again, as she used to be. His first reaction was to take her in his arms and lift her up, just as they were when they last said goodbye. He couldn't care less what the people around him would think. His little sister was alive, safe, at home, and that's all that mattered.

He could almost feel Dany smiling at the scene before her. "Arya," he finally said as they both let go. "This is Queen Daenerys Targaryen,"

"A pleasure to finally meet you Queen Daenerys," Arya said, her gaze wandering between Dany and Jon.

"And you too," Dany replied with a smile.

Jon didn't even notice Sansa and Bran coming along to join the scene. He took a moment to look at all of them, his brother and sisters, and a feeling of nostalgia overtook him. None of them were as he remembered, for the harsh years they had survived left their marks on the Stark children. It was truly difficult for Jon to accept that this is what they had come to be. To see Bran almost expressionless in his wheelchair, to see the pain in his sisters' eyes, and to see the empty spaces where Rickon and Robb would have stood.

However, there was now a new person in his life who added so much meaning to it. Seeing her and the family he had left, he realized he should be thankful… he knew he had more than most.

* * *

Thank you for reading! I don't usually write chapters with several character POVs but I felt it was the best way to portray the long awaited Stark reunion ...

 **Thank you** to everyone who has followed/favorited this story, and to those who have left me reviews; I appreciated every word.

I would also like to mention that the image I used for this fic was taken from the amazing .art on instagram!

Stay tuned for more :)


	3. Observations

Hello everyone! If you're the type to listen to music while reading I recommend you play Truth by Ramin Djawadi for the second part of this chapter :)

Enjoy!

* * *

Dany stood on the balcony overlooking the court at Winterfell, observing the people that were still arriving at the castle that day. Everyone seemed to know each other and it made her feel even more like a foreigner in this strange place. She looked at Jon as he spoke to Samwell Tarly. Out of all the people in the world, did Jon's best friend have to be a Tarly? Did he know that she killed his father and brother? It didn't seem like he knew when she met him, but she tried not to think of it.

She then shifted her gaze to Lady Sansa and Tyrion, the Hound and Lady Brienne, Ser Davos and a young man she did not recognize, Jorah and little Lyanna… all appeared to be deep in conversation. They were all connected to each other in someway or another and Dany was an alien to them. She looked back to Jon and Sam, who was now introducing his son, she assumed it was his child, to Jon. Her eyes grew sad at the sight of Jon with the babe, knowing she would never be able to give that to him.

Dany soon realized that she herself was also being observed. She was too captivated by Jon and his interactions with the people around him to mind the eyes that would not leave her.

Although Arya Stark hadn't seen her brother in years, she still felt like she knew him well enough to appreciate that his commitment towards Daenerys Targaryen went beyond the need for her armies and a strong political alliance. The moment she heard that he had bent the knee, and that he had refused to lie to Cersei, she knew there had to be more to it. She observed the young Dragon Queen watching Jon, she would watch him like Arya remembered her mother watching her father from above; a woman watching her beloved.

Arya was always good at seeing what lay beneath the masks of dishonesty that people wore on their faces everyday, the masks that would hide their sadness, cover up their betrayals, and help them pretend to be someone they were not. Her training in the House of Black and White helped her to develop this ability, for now she was truly able to find the lies in people's faces, and she saw none in the face of the silver haired woman before her.

For the time being, that was good enough for her. She would not invite Daenarys Targaryen to play the game of faces any time soon.

"He is new to this, isn't he?" Dany heard Arya arrive at her side. "Being the center of everyone's attention…"

"Yes… he used to be the exact opposite in fact. The type to blend into the corners of a room." Arya smiled to her side. "Is this your first time in the North?"

"Second time," Dany corrected her. "It wasn't too long ago… I arrived with three dragons and left with two."

Arya fell silent, not knowing how to respond.

"You will hear more about it in tomorrow's meeting," Dany continued. They decided it would be best to keep it till tomorrow as people were still making their way to Winterfell.

"Why are you wearing a direwolf pin?" Arya asked, trying to change the subject.

Dany chuckled. "Well… Jo-, Lord Snow, gave it to me," she looked down at the small sigil. "He thought it would ease the eyes of the Northern Lords as they looked to me, a foreign ruler. Do you think it helps?"

"Yes," Arya replied. "He gave this to me the last time I saw him," she said taking her sword out of its sheath, "I called it 'Needle'. It has certainly helped… a lot."

"He gave it to you?" Dany tried to sound surprised although she wasn't at all, she felt proud even. It came as no shock to her that Jon would help his little sister pursue her dreams, regardless of what they were.

"He didn't just give it to me, he had it made specially just for me." Arya looked at her little sword, remembering both the happier and the bloodier times. "It was the night before he left for The Wall. Soon we had all gone on our separate paths."

Dany had to look away from Jon and stare at the young wolf. On the way to Winterfell, Jon told her how his sister had been witness to the murders of her brother, mother and father. To have seen her brother mocked, her father beheaded… Dany remembered how helpless she felt as she watched her sweetest child Viserion fall from the sky, and she couldn't imagine that a girl as young as Arya had experienced and felt it more than once.

"I am sorry for your losses Arya," Dany said.

"Thank you," she replied. She thought of the time she spent in Braavos, and all the lessons she learned there. "Valar morghulis."

Braavosi words spoken in Westeros, maybe this place wasn't so foreign after all.

"All men must die," Dany said with a sigh. She looked back to Jon. "I would prefer it if not all of them died. Perhaps we should stick to valar dohaeris".

* * *

After the many reunions and introductions, Jon spent the rest of the evening showing Dany around the castle. He showed her where him and Robb used to go out riding, the room where he used to sleep in, the library and the dining hall. He had memories in every corner of that castle, and it brought him happiness to be able to share it with her.

Finally, as the sun began to set, they arrived at the ever so famous Weirwood tree in the godswood, the witness to many a significant event that took place in Winterfell. They sat underneath the heart tree that stood over a pool of black water. The hot spring that fed the small pools in the area kept the ground unfrozen.

"This is beautiful," Dany remarked.

"Not as beautiful as you," Jon said, meaning every word he said.

She smiled and rested her head on his shoulder. They were finally alone and they didn't have to hide.

"The last couple of days have been wonderful Jon," she said. "Unfortunately it all ends with tomorrow's meeting."

She was right. Although they didn't lose focus over the war with the white walkers, the last few days were spent travelling and there was not much work or planning that could be done without the presence of everyone who was meant to be involved. He was thankful that the trip took a few days, but he wished it could have been longer.

"If the gods were kind we would have met a long time ago," he said.

"I know," her voice low. She felt tears forming in her eyes but she would not let them fall down her cheek. She would not let love make her weak. She couldn't.

But it did.

She held her hand up, placing it gently on his cheek. And he kissed her… softly at first, and then with a quick progression of intensity that made her cling to him as the only grounded thing in a dizzy swaying world. She could feel his heart beat, so strong and fast to the point where she was afraid it would tear his chest apart.

"I love you Jon," she whispered as he kissed her neck. He let go to look her in the eyes, placing a strand of her hair behind her ear.

"I love you too Dany," he replied. "More than you could ever know."

They remained under the Weirwood until the early hours of the night, their faces touching except for a pale, thin ray of moonlight between.

* * *

So much fluffffffffff (for now... the drama will come very soon)

Thank you to everyone who followed/favorited and left reviews, keep them coming as they really motivate me to keep uploading!

A few of you have asked me about Ghost and if I plan to include him in this.. although I would love to, I don't think the writers are bringing him back to the show, and I want this story to be as close to cannon as possible! Still, I would love to hear what you guys think.

Stay tuned for more :)


	4. The Wall is Down

It had been a long time since the meeting hall at Winterfell was filled with this many people, and the air filled with this much tension. It was a dark and gloomy morning when they gathered in the hall, and the conversation they were about to have wasn't going to make it any better.

Jon sat at the head of the table. Dany and Tyrion were on his right, and his siblings on his left.

"Where is Jaime Lannister?" Sansa finally asked, voicing the words everyone was thinking.

"She is right," Jon said, looking to Tyrion. "The Lannister armies should have arrived by now."

Suddenly all the eyes in the room were on Tyrion, his last name a curse and a blessing all at once. "You were all there in the dragon pit," he said. "Cersei said they would come."

"Never trust a Lannister," muttered one of the northern lords in the back. Suddenly, whispers began to fill the room and chaos was about to unfold.

Lady Lyanna Mormont then stood up from her seat and the room quieted down. She had that effect on people. "In the mean time, allow the King in the North to speak," she said, now looking at Jon. "Tell us about your time in the South. What advances have you made?"

Jon took a deep breath, preparing himself to make the announcement that he had bent the knee. That they should no longer call him King in the North. He stood up, looking to his Queen who gave him a nod of reassurance.

"In Dragonstone, we managed to mine a large amount of Dragonglass, and members of the Dothraki and Unsullied are there as we speak, continuing to mine some more," he stopped to clear his throat. "When we received news that the walkers were marching towards Eastwatch, a group of us travelled North beyond the wall, with the aim of obtaining some evidence for Cersei."

Lady Alys Karstark then spoke. "Evidence?"

"We captured one of those dead cunts and took it to Kings Landing. Fucking nightmare that was," said the Hound.

"You captured a white walker?" Sam asked in shock.

"Not a whitewalker, it was a wight," Jon said. "But the plan didn't go as well as we expected. It was a senseless idea if I am being honest, and we wouldn't be here today to tell you the story if it wasn't for Queen Daenerys."

Lord Royce then stood up. "There it is," he said, the anger in his eyes evident to everyone in that room. "I've been waiting for you to mutter the words. Queen Daenerys. The Targaryen bitch forced you to bend the knee, didn't she?"

A series of gasps filled the room. Greyworm and the two Dothraki who were there all held their hands to their weapons, ready to strike at the man who disrespected their Queen.

"Don't you dare-" Jon shouted, unable to control his anger. But Dany, who managed to maintain her composure while being insulted, placed her hand on Jon's arm, gesturing to him to sit back down. It was time for her to speak to these foreign Lords.

"Lord Royce, while I do not appreciate your tone and outwardly belittling attitude towards my family name or my position as a female ruler, I can't tell which one bothers you more, I still ask that you respect me as I respect you and everyone in this room who is fighting for the living against the dead."

Lord Royce looked at the Dragon Queen, and although the veins in his head were about to burst from frustration, he sat back down. Her words had silenced the room, except for a quiet chuckle from Arya, and now all gazes shifted to Dany. The young Queen had finally spoken, and they were all waiting to hear what she had to say.

"I am not here to take the North or to force anyone to bend the knee. If I were, trust me, you would know it. I wouldn't have travelled beyond the wall with all three of my dragons to save Jon and the other brave men who went with him if I didn't realize that fighting the dead was more important than fighting for the throne."

Sansa stood up, now facing Jon. "Is that why you bent the knee? Because she saved you?" She still didn't know whether Jon's decision was the right one. She remembered Little Finger's words, _Jon is young and unmarried, Daenerys is young and unmarried_ … Was it his head or his heart that made him give up his title and forget the bloody history between the Starks and the Targaryens?

"Aye," Jon stood up again. "For that reason and many more. Daenerys lost one of her dragons, one of her children, when she saved us and she did not let it bring her down or pull her away from the fight. That is the Queen I chose to follow, one who understands that sacrifices must be made for the greater good, one who has mercy and compassion towards people, whether they are her people or not. Before she came to Westeros, she spent years in Essos freeing slaves and fighting for their rights. She didn't have to that. She could have easily marched on Kings Landing with her dragons and burned her enemies down years ago if she wanted to. She gave up everything she worked towards her whole life to be here today to save the North and the rest of the seven kingdoms. She is my Queen and I will not apologize for it."

Although Dany should have been looking around the room as Jon spoke to see how people reacted to his words, she couldn't take her eyes off him… the man who yet again defended her and fought for her when he didn't have to. They were both letting their emotions get the better of them, but a part of her didn't care anymore. If they were to die in the next Battle for the Dawn, her time with Jon would be what she treasured most.

Jon sat back down and smiled at her. He didn't seem to care either.

It was little Lyanna Mormont who spoke next. "Okay," she said. "If Daenerys Targaryen is who you say she is, House Mormont will support you. Your Queen is our Queen as well."

"Us too!" another young and eager voice spoke, that of the little Lord of Last Hearth; Ned Umber.

"You have the support of House Karstark as well," Lady Alys spoke once more.

Dany looked at these young Lords and Ladies in awe, for they too had lost their parents and had taken on responsibilities too heavy for their small shoulders to carry.

"Thank you ver-," she was interrupted.

"I will not," Lord Royce said, now looking at Sansa. "The armed forces of The Vale will continue to help fight for the North, but I will not accept a Targaryen Queen."

Sansa replied, "that's all we ask. Of all of you."

A new voice now spoke, that of a young Brandon Stark. "I have something to say." His gaze was fixated on the ground, not looking at anyone in the room. He continued, "I wanted to wait for the Lannister's to arrive to share this news but it seems we have no time."

"What is it Bran?" Arya asked, now impatient.

"The wall is down," he said, now looking solely at Dany. "The Night King rides Viserion and the wall is damaged at Eastwatch. The army of the dead marches South and we need to get the word out to the rest of the Kingdom."

Dany looked at the young Lord, unable to find her voice. A huge lump formed in her throat as she tried to take in what he said. It seemed his words had the same effect on everyone, as no one spoke. She remembered Jon telling her that Bran had 'visions'…

"Bran when did you see this?" Sansa asked, finally breaking the silence.

"Yesterday."

Finally, Dany was able to speak. "No," she said, looking Bran in the eyes. "No, it can't be. I saw Viserion die. I saw him fall into the ice water. I saw his blood turn it red. It's impossible!"

"Dany…" Jon whispered, only loud enough for her to hear.

"Its true," the Hound spoke. "Her dragon died, we all saw it."

"The dragon did die," Bran responded. "But the night king brought it back. It is now undead."

There was then an outbreak of chaos in the hall. People started getting up from their seats, and everyone seemed to be shouting.

"Enough!" Sansa spoke, loud and clear. "We cannot enter a state of panic right now. Sam…"

"I'll send the ravens now Lady Stark," Sam replied, quickly getting up from his seat and leaving the room.

Amidst the commotion, Missandei now came to Dany's side and whispered in her ear, "Your Grace, do you need to step outside for a moment?"

"Go," Jon told her. "I'll take it from here."

* * *

About an hour later, Jon was knocking on the door to Dany's bedchambers.

"Come in," he heard her voice from inside, and so he did.

She was sitting on her bed and at her side was a large mountain of white fur. Ghost had his head in her lap, but he turned around to greet Jon. The direwolves' red eyes looking straight into his, as if telling his human not to worry, for he was taking care of Dany.

"I saw him in the hallway and he followed me here," she said. "He is very sweet."

Jon smiled as he walked towards them. "That's a good boy," he thanked his wolf, rubbing his head.

"He is really smart you know," Jon mused. "He always knows when to help."

Dany nodded, smiling at the white creature. Unfortunately her dragons were now too big to be cuddled.

"I'm so sorry Dany," Jon said. "None of us saw this coming."

"I know," she replied. "Whatever that thing is, it's not Viserion anymore."

Jon kissed her forehead, wanting so badly to take her pain away but not knowing how. There were harder times ahead…

Missandei's voice from behind the door interrupted the moment, "Your Grace, Lord Tyrion is here."

"Let him in," Dany said.

Tyrion walked in, his face completely distraught.

"Tyrion what is it?" Jon asked, the sense of alarm clear in his voice.

"My brother is here."

"And?" Dany asked. "Isn't that a good thing?"

"It would be," Tyrion sighed. "Except, he is here alone. Without the armies… I'm so sorry Daenerys, but it seems as though my dear sister has lied."

* * *

And there it is! :D hope you guys enjoyed it.

If anyone is confused about the timeline, I just assumed that the ending of episode 7 where Bran saw the wall going down could have taken place on any day...

 **Thank you** for all the support and as always keep it coming and stay tuned... _chaos is a ladder_.


	5. Aegon Targaryen

"Take me to your brother Tyrion," Dany said, fire burning in her eyes. Tyrion was standing in front of her at the doorway to her chambers. Jon was at her side.

"Wait, you need to calm down," he told her.

"I am calm," she replied, now angrier.

"Your Grace-"

"Tyrion! Take me to him right now."

Tyrion took a deep breath and moved to the side, realizing there was no point in attempting to argue with the Queen. He took them to the Castle's entrance, where his brother stood, surrounded by several unsullied.

"Queen Daenerys," Jaime greeted them with a tired look in his eyes.

"Where is Cersei and your armies?" Jon asked, realizing Dany was probably too angry to voice her words.

"I told my brother what happened," Jaime sighed, looking at Tyrion. "My sister lied… she conspired with Euron Greyjoy behind our backs. He didn't flee, he went with this ships to pick up the fucking Golden Company from Essos."

Dany didn't think she could handle more bad news that day. Her knees felt like they were going to give way and her stomach like it was turning itself inside out.

"How do I trust you?" she finally spoke. "How do you expect me to believe any word that comes out of the mouth of a Kingslayer?"

"Daenerys," Tyrion tried to reason with her. "He is my brother."

"Aye," Jon said. "And Cersei is your sister."

"Why would I come here by myself if this wasn't true?" Jaime was now looking directly at Dany. "I saw the thing that you brought to the dragon pit. Unlike my sister I actually allowed my eyes to take in what they saw that day. I believe in your cause and will fight your fight if you let me."

"So what do you suppose we do?" Dany asked him. "If you were me right now, if you were to put yourself in my shoes, what would you do?"

Jaime fell silent.

"Exactly," she said. "There is nothing I can do with this news. One more soldier to fight against the hundreds of thousands that march South as we speak will not make a difference to our fight. And now knowing that Cersei has gone behind my back to expand her rule, and I cannot stop her…"

"You don't need to stop her," Tyrion spoke. "Ravens have already been sent to tell the rest of the country that the wall is down. Any Lord who holds any sense in his head and has any good left in his heart will send his men North rather than having them join Cersei's army of madmen and elephants."

"I hope your right," Dany sighed as she looked at the Lannister brothers. "For both your sakes."

She walked away from yet another disappointing situation, but at least she had Jon at her side.

"Are you okay?" he asked her as they strode across the courtyard. She looked pale and her eyes were tired.

"No," she replied honestly. "However, I do have something in mind… I need you to take me somewhere."

* * *

They stood on the roof of the highest tower in the castle, the cold wind blowing harshly against them.

"Dany it's freezing, even for me," he said, squinting his eyes in an attempt to block out the harsh light of the snow.

"Just wait," she said. She closed her eyes, focusing for a moment.

"What are doing?"

And then he heard it. The sound of one of her children pierced the air, and soon the green-scaled beast made its appearance.

"Oh," Dany muttered, looking slightly confused. "I thought I had told Drogon to come."

Jon stared at her and at the dragon in amazement. Even after seeing her interact with her children for a couple of months, he was still unable to comprehend the particulars of the bond they had. The creature perched on the side of the roof, but then started to move closer… closer to Jon.

"Dany what is he doing?" Jon asked, unable to take his eyes off the beast.

She took his hand in hers. "He wants to meet you properly. Like you met Drogon," she explained.

Rhaegal was inches away from the two of them now. Jon held his breath as he reached out to pet the dragon; less afraid now than he was the first time he laid a finger on one of them. Rhaegal then shifted to his side, spreading out his wing.

"What's he doing now?" Jon asked, his heart now beating faster.

"I- I'm not sure," she replied quietly. She looked at Rhaegal, who was now pointing his head towards his wings. She knew what he wanted but she just couldn't believe it. Could her children sense the depth of her love towards this man? Is that why they wanted to bond with him?

"Do you trust me?"

"Of course I do!" Jon responded, still not realizing what was going on.

"Okay," she said taking his hand and leading him to mount the dragon. He did not hesitate or pull back as he stepped onto the creature, although his grip on Dany's hand grew tighter.

He sat behind her on Rhaegal's back, the warmth emanating from the creature providing him with an odd sense of comfort. Holding on to the dragon's scales, with Dany in between his arms, he felt a lot safer than he thought he would. He was ready.

"Valahd," Dany whispered, and Rhaegal took off. She could feel Jon suddenly tense up behind her but as they flew higher he began to relax. The dragon took them higher and higher until they were moving in between the clouds. Rhaegal then slowed down, and it was as if they were floating in the air.

Jon began to laugh, the situation too unreal and astonishing for him to handle. Dany turned around to face him, and now she was laughing as well.

He held his hand up to caress her cheek. "This is incredible," he said, his lips curling into a youthful and eager smile. "How you've managed to make me so happy during times like this is beyond me."

She kissed him, for there were no words strong or loud enough to show him how she felt. He was the only human, other than herself, who the dragons interacted with in this way. They too knew how special he was.

Rhaegal then began to pick up the speed of the flight. "Come on," Dany said as she returned to her original position. "I think we're boring him."

* * *

They returned to the castle a few hours later, and the first stop Dany made was at Tyrion's bedchambers.

"Back from your romantic dragon ride?" he said as she walked into his room. He was sitting down by the fireplace, a glass of wine in hand.

She rolled her eyes at him, taking the seat next to his. She hadn't realized how tired she was until she sat down. She rested her head against the back of the chair and took a deep breath in.

"I'm not here to talk about that," she lied.

"You have to be more careful Daenerys," he advised. "The two of you aren't being very subtle. People are starting to talk…"

"Tyrion please," she stopped him. "Don't you think I know? I am not stupid. I know this is the worst time in the world for something like this to happen… but everything becomes different when I see him. The world suddenly a shade brighter and my heart less heavy. I don't know what to do." Her eyes grew sad as she talked about the reality of her situation with Jon. The Gods were cruel indeed.

Tyrion sighed, "I am not the best person to give advice when it comes to love. Trust me." He looked at the fire, fierce yet gentle as the flames flickered and danced away; almost the perfect metaphor.

"Speaking to you as your friend I must say that I am happy for you, because you really do deserve this Daenerys, and Jon is a good man. But as your hand, I would say that you need to turn this to your advantage."

"What are you talking about?"

"Legitimize Jon Snow. Name him Jon Stark, Lord of Winterfell, and marry him."

His words shook her to the point where a sudden wave of nausea overcame her, forcing her to clasp her hand over her mouth and run to Tyrion's restroom. He immediately followed her but she shut the door in his face, making it just in time to unleash the contents of her stomach into the chamber pot.

He could hear her violent retches from outside the restroom and he found himself getting anxious, "Do you need me to call a maester?"

A few minutes later she managed to reply, "No!"

He went to pour himself another glass of wine and it wasn't till around a half hour later when she finally made an appearance.

He turned around to look her in the eyes. "Is there something else you're not telling me?"

* * *

Opening the door to his chambers Jon was startled to find Sam and Bran standing before him. They looked like they had been waiting there for quite a while.

"Good evening to the two of you," Jon said sarcastically as he walked in, sitting at the side of his bed. "How can I help?"

"We need to talk," Sam said, sweat trickling down from his forehead.

"I can see that," Jon replied, not sure what would bring his best friend and his brother together to talk to him. "What's going on?"

"Okay... you need to sit down and be calm," Sam said.

"I am sitting down," Jon was starting to get impatient. Dany said she would meet him here and he wanted them out of the room fast. His mind was still up in the clouds, unable to perceive the seriousness of the situation.

"Sam," Bran spoke. "Maybe I should be the one to tell him?"

Sam nodded and sat down beside Jon. He was too nervous to stay standing.

"Jon you know that I am the three eyed raven," Bran started, facing his wheelchair so that he and Jon were eye to eye.

"Yes, although I'm not sure what that means exactly…"

"It means I have the sight. I have the ability to perceive events from any timeline in the form of dreams… and I saw the day you were born."

Jon felt his heart sink to his knees. "No," he immediately said, standing up and walking to the door. "I don't want to hear this."

"Jon you must!" Sam yelled, following him to the door.

"My father was supposed to have this conversation with me," Jon said, his voice loud but sad. "He promised me."

"Well he isn't here to tell you now, is he?" Bran spoke and the room fell silent. "You have to listen to us Jon."

Jon started to pace around the room for a while, trying to get his mind to think straight. "Okay," he finally answered, his gaze fixed on the ground. "Just say it Bran!"

"Ned Stark isn't your father. Your real name is Aegon Targaryen… the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark, and the true heir to the Iron Throne."

* * *

Talk about a double cliffhanger ;)

Hope you guys enjoyed it.

 **Thank you** so much to everyone who has followed/favorited and left reviews, it means a lot!


	6. The Crypts

Jon could hear Bran and Sam talking to him, he could hear their muffled voices but he wasn't able to take in anything they were saying. It was like they were speaking a foreign language. His back was facing them as he looked outside the window; and all he could do was focus on the outside. The inside had now become the more treacherous of the two.

"Jon _,"_ he could hear.

"Jon, are you listening to us?"

"Jon, do you want to sit down?"

"Jon can we get you anything?"

"Jon…"

"Jon…"

A different voice now joined in. "Jon?"

He quickly turned around and there she was… standing at the door, her face confused and her eyes red. He stared at her as she started to move closer to him and he was suddenly unable to breathe. He felt sick.

"What's going on?" she asked. Jon was not sure who she was talking to.

He couldn't speak. Not now. Not to her.

"Queen Daenerys," Sam spoke softly. "Perhaps you should come back later."

She ignored Sam's request and held her hand up, wanting to touch his arm. "Jon," she said, speaking the wrong name.

And he couldn't take it anymore. He stopped her from touching him and looked her in the eyes before walking out of that room. He walked away from her and from everything, and there was no going back.

Dany tried to follow him as he walked away but Bran held her back.

"Leave him be," he said, his grip tight around her arm. "He needs some time."

She stared at Bran, desperate for answers. The look Jon had just given her was something she had never seen before. "Time for what?" she practically yelled. "What just happened?"

"I'm sure he will speak to you when he is ready," Sam said.

"All right. This is ridiculous," she muttered, making her way towards the door.

"Try to get some rest, your Grace," Bran said. His gaze shifted towards her abdomen. "You need it."

* * *

Jon was walking mindlessly around the castle until he found him self at the crypts. He had several memories attached to the dark and chilly place. Although he was afraid of it as a young child, as he grew older he would play in the vault. He remembered a specific incidence where he covered his face in flour pretending to be a ghost and scaring his younger siblings.

 _They are not your siblings Jon… Aegon._

He observed the statues and the large stone direwolves that curled at their feet. The faces of the Lords of Winterfell and Kings in the North were stern and strong. Some of them had done terrible things, but they were Starks, every one. And he would never be buried amongst them.

He stopped at her statue. Lyanna Stark. The only woman in the vault and she was his mother. Jon never thought he would come to know the truth about the woman who brought him to life. He asked Ned about her too many times and after years of his questions being left unanswered he began to let go of the thought. He used to picture her in his head though. Especially when he was young and unable to understand why he couldn't sit at the dinner table with the rest of his brothers and sisters when an important guest came to visit or why Lady Stark would stare at him like he was the devil himself. The image he had forged of his mother brought great comfort to him during those times.

He tried to understand why and how Ned did it. How he could look him in the eyes, everyday of his life, and lie to him. How he could let him be treated differently… labeled a bastard and damned because of it. He didn't want to be angry; to feel resentment towards the man who raised him, who showed him how to yield a sword and helped him read his first book. He didn't want to hate the man he looked up to most in the world, but a part of him did. Ned Stark, known to be honest and true to his word, kept the biggest secret in the seven kingdoms to himself and took it with him to his grave.

 _But he did it because he loved her,_ Jon tried to tell himself. If there was one thing he knew about Lyanna Stark, it was how much her brother cherished her. He even tried to imagine a situation where Arya would come to him for help… he would never say be able to say no to her, no matter what. And he knew how King Robert hated the Targaryens… how he and many others wanted every last one of them dead. He knew that. But it was still hard. It was hard not to imagine a life where he would grow up knowing he was legitimate, a prince, and a son to a mother and father who actually loved each other.

He then thought of his father. His real father… Rhaegar Targaryen. A name familiar to anyone in Westeros, he was told many stories about him as a young boy. The most popular being how he faced off against Ser Barristan Selmy at the Tourney of Harrenhal and won, only to ride past his wife and give the victor's wreath to Lyanna Stark instead. Jon of course had to learn about the Targaryen dynasty and the many platinum-haired kings who ruled over Westeros before the Mad King ended it all. The tales of the family and their dragons were his favorite thing to learn about as a child, as it was for many other children. He thought about his own experience with dragons and it all started to make sense. Dany told him he was the only person, other than herself, who was able to bond with her dragons.

 _Dany._

He couldn't think about her right now.

"Jon,"

He turned around and saw Sansa, Bran and Arya. They were all there together, standing in the crypts below Winterfell, and for a moment it felt like he was a child again. He realized Bran must have talked to them.

"How did you find me here?" he said, his gaze still fixed on the statue of Lyanna before him.

"Well, it's been a couple of hours and we looked everywhere…" Sansa replied.

"Jon…" Arya began.

"That's not my name," he said, finally turning to look at them.

"Yes it is!" Arya exclaimed. "You will always be Jon to us, nothing has to change,"

"Nothing has to change?" Jon replied, now angry. "I'm a Targaryen."

"You're half Stark," Sansa spoke. "You don't have to choose. You can be Lord of Winterfell or you can go after the Iron Throne. It's up to you, but to us, you will always be our brother, and the leader in the North."

Jon looked at Sansa, her words reminding him of a conversation he had with Theon Greyjoy not too long ago. _You don't need to choose. You're a Greyjoy and you're a Stark._

"No," he said. "You are the Lady of Winterfell Sansa, or Queen in the North if you don't wish to bend the knee. During my absence you stepped up; you took on every problem here and handled it with grace. You saved the North during the Battle of the Bastards and you deserve to lead its people. Winterfell is not my place anymore. And neither is the Iron Throne."

"So what now?" Arya asked. "You do realize you're claim to the throne is stronger than Daenerys'."

"It doesn't matter," he replied. "The throne belongs to Dan- … Daenerys. She worked for it her entire life, and she deserves it more than anyone. Who am I to take it from her? Just because I am a man and she is a woman? I won't. That's not who I am."

"You don't have to take it from her Jon," Bran was now the one to speak. "The two of you are fated, it belongs to both of you."

"She is my aunt."

"I know it's not a Northern custom but the Targaryens wed each other for centuries. It is normal to them," Sansa said.

"Aye!" Jon exclaimed. "And that's why they're all mad!"

"Come on Jon," Sansa tried to reason with him. "Daenerys isn't mad. Neither was Rhaegar. Myrcella and Tommen turned out all right too considering…"

"I am not having this conversation," Jon said, starting to get frustrated. "Why is it that all of a sudden you approve of my relationship with Daenerys anyway?"

"We never disapproved of it," Arya said. "I actually like her."

"You don't," Jon said, now looking at Sansa. "I saw the way you looked at us when we arrived at Winterfell."

Sansa sighed, "Jon…"

"Why does it even matter?" Jon continued. "The Night King and his army are coming for us all. We would be lucky to live to see another week. There is no point in discussing a future where you are Queen in the North and Dany and I rulers of the Seven Kingdoms. It will never happen."

"Look Jon, we understand how hard this is for you," Arya said.

He interrupted her, "You don't. None of you could ever understand."

"It's true," Sansa agreed. "But Daenerys might… you should go speak to her."

"I cannot speak to her," Jon said. He couldn't even imagine how she would react to the news. That he himself was now a threat to her rule.

"Take your time," Bran said. "But she needs you as you need her. You _are_ the last Targaryens."

* * *

Wooo! I hope you guys enjoyed that.

I truly appreciate all the support I have received for this fic so far and a huge **thank you** to everyone who has taken the time to leave a review!

Stay tuned, the #jonerys ship has hit an iceberg :P


	7. The Last Targaryen

_When the sun rises in the west and sets in the east. When the seas go dry and mountains blow in the wind like leaves. When your womb quickens again, and you bear a living child. Then he will return, and not before._

Dany couldn't seem to get Mirri Maz Duur's words out of her head. The witch that had taken so much from her was still taunting her from the grave. Dany could remember her sing as the fires began to take her life, but she screamed in the end. They all do.

 _Only death can pay for life._

Did she have to lose one child to have another?

She thought of Viserion, of his cream and gold colored scales, his red-orange wings. He was the smallest of the three but the sweetest nonetheless. The last to hatch from the egg but the first to leave this world. She would not let his death go without meaning. Perhaps this was it.

 _Only death can pay for life._

The sun had begun to rise, its rays peaking through the window of her chambers. Dany hadn't gone to sleep that night. How could she? She pressed her hand to her stomach as she lay on her bed. _Could it be true?_ She tried to think of when she last had her moon blood. The landing at Dragonstone had been busy and then Jon had come and they headed north…was she sure? It could have been two months. Maybe three.

"Seven hells," she whispered to herself, breaking the silence in the room. Ghost was asleep beside her, but his breaths were quiet. His eyes flung open at the sound of her voice and she gave him a sad smile. "I'm sorry," she said, running her fingers through his thick fur. "Go back to sleep my sweet." She had called him to her chambers this time. She couldn't be alone… not tonight.

She then thought of Rhaego. Her little stallion, for he was too good for this world. She prayed for him every night without failure. That his soul was at peace, resting alongside his father. What would become of this child? The world had only become darker and crueler, incomparable to how it was back then. This was no place for a young and innocent soul. Indeed, the Gods were mocking her. What a crooked sense of humor they had… to give her what she wanted most at the least possible time she could have it.

She wanted to talk to Jon so badly. She wanted him to take her into his arms and tell her it would be okay, even if they both knew it wouldn't. However, whatever Bran and Sam told him that night, it changed the way he looked at her. She saw it the moment she walked into his chambers. Something had gone off in his mind and she had no idea what it could be.

She then heard a knock at the door. _Could it be him?_

"Who is it?"

"Its me," she heard Missandei's voice instead.

"Come in."

Missandei walked into the room, and she knew immediately something was wrong. Although Daenerys was good at hiding, she knew her for many years, and she was always able to sense when her Queen was upset.

"The bed is still made your Grace," she remarked. "Have you not slept?"

Dany shook her head, not in the mood for conversation.

"Well, Tyrion has asked me to call you to the meeting hall. They started a bit earlier today, apparently some men arrived from the Wall just before dawn."

"All right," she sighed. She felt dizzy the moment she stood up from the bed, and it forced her to lie back down, touching her stomach absentmindedly. The nausea began to creep up again… it was the morning after all.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Missandei asked, now at the edge of the bed.

"I am fine." Dany attempted to stand up again, only to feel more lightheaded than the first time she tried. She almost tripped but Missandei quickly held her and sat her back down.

"No you're not, your Grace," Missandei placed the back of her palm to the Queen's forehead. "You're not warm… did you eat something bad? Oh, what do I know! I'm going to call a maester."

"Missandei please," Dany objected.

"Don't worry I will come up with an excuse for Tyrion," Missandei said. "Let the Maester check you and then you can go to the meeting. Just to be safe."

* * *

Jon was surprised not to see Dany at the meeting. Although he was slightly thankful for it, as he was not ready to face her yet, he was still confused and even worried. She would never miss a meeting if it weren't something important. Tormund and Berric had returned from the Wall. Surely she would have wanted to hear what happened? They had seen Viserion. She should be here.

As everyone was talking Jon made his way to Missandei who was standing at the corner of the room. "Missandei," he whispered. "Where is Daenerys?"

"She will be coming soon," she replied. But he knew she was lying, they had already been in the hall for over an hour.

"Please," he said. "Just tell me if she is all right."

Missandei shook her head, as if telling him _I cannot tell you, but no, she is not all right._

In that moment, there was only one thing that Jon was sure of. He needed to see his Dragon Queen.

* * *

A few hours later, Dany heard another knock. This one, however, seemed to have a sense of urgency attached to it.

She opened the door herself, and there he was. "Jon," she whispered his name. Although she was relieved that he came, she was more anxious than anything. She had to idea what to expect.

He stared at her for a moment, at all of her, looking to see if anything was wrong. Her face was pale and her eyes tired but that was it. _Thank the Gods._

"You're not hurt?" he asked, wanting nothing more than to hold her.

"No," her voice was about to break. "Where were you Jon? What happened last night?!"

"Let's sit down for a moment."

She reached out to take his hand as they sat down and as much as he tried to he couldn't let go. Perhaps he needed to hold her hand as much as she needed to hold his.

"Dany I told you about Bran and his visions, right?"

She nodded her head, remembering how Bran had stared at her stomach the night before. _Had he seen something to do with their child? Did Jon know?_

"Bran saw my mother, on the day I was born. And he saw the day she married my father,"

 _What is he saying? Was Ned Stark married to someone else? Was he not a bastard?_

Jon took a deep breath in, his eyes still fixed on Dany's. "Lyanna Stark is my mother and my father is…" he paused. "Rhaegar Targaryen. My real name isn't Jon. It's Aegon."

In that moment he expected her to let go of his hand, but her grip only grew tighter. Her eyes turned wide and her chest was rising and falling a little faster than it was a few moments ago. But she still held his hand, wanting to hear more.

As Jon continued to speak and tell her about how his parents were in love and how the whole world got it wrong, all she could think about was a vision she had in the House of the Undying many years ago.

The man in the vision had her brother's hair, but he was taller, and his eyes were a dark indigo rather than lilac. _"Aegon,"_ he said to a woman nursing a newborn babe in a great wooden bed. _"What better name for a king?"  
_ " _Will you make a song for him?"_ the woman asked.  
" _He has a song,"_ the man replied. _"He is the prince that was promised, and his is the song of ice and fire."_ He looked up when he said it and his eyes met Dany, and it seemed as if he saw her standing there beyond the door. _"There must be one more,"_ he said, though whether he was speaking to her or the woman in bed she could not say. _"The dragon has three heads."_

She never knew what it meant until today. Until she saw the person who Rhaegar hoped would be the third head of the dragon right before her eyes. Rhaegar's first child was Rhaenys, the second Aegon, and the third should have been Visenya. Was he truly that obsessed with the prophecy? Maybe she ought to learn from his mistakes. Her brother had it all wrong. The first two children Rhaegar had with Elia Martell were dead, and the third one with was a little boy and not a girl to be named Visenya.

She looked at him, the love of her life, the father of her unborn child, and now the only other living Targaryen. No wonder he shared such a strong bond with her and her dragons. It was all starting to make sense. _The dragon has three heads, and his is the song of ice and fire._

"Dany are you still with me?" he asked, shaking her out of it.

"Yes," she replied. "I am just trying to take it all in… How have you been holding up?"

He looked at her, baffled by her concern towards him. Her first worry wasn't her claim to the throne, it was him. She was perfect, the woman he loved, and he realized that there was nothing that could come in the way of that. Nothing else mattered.

"I've seen better times," he admitted. "But Sansa, Bran and Arya talked to me last night, and they helped. I just want you to know that I do not want your throne Dany. You are my Queen, and I will stay true to my word."

"No," she said, without taking a second to think about it. "The throne is yours as it is mine. We are the last dragons, and if we live to see that day we will take what is ours with fire and blood. We have to fight for it together, if not for us then for those who come after us."

His hand remained entangled in hers as she held it closer to rest on her stomach.

"Dany?"

A single tear fell down her cheek. She looked frightened, almost vulnerable. "I'm with child, Jon. Our child."

 _Truly, the last Targaryen._

* * *

GRRM was inspired by William Faulkner's quote _"the only thing worth writing about is the human heart in conflict with itself"_ , and I had to show that with Jon coming to terms with his identity. His conflict was more about how he was lied to his entire life, rather than the whole incest thing. As some of you mentioned in the comments, the Targaryens weren't the only ones to wed eachother. Ned Stark's parents were cousins etc. but to Jon and the younger generation Starks it isn't as normal to them. He had to have some trouble accepting it, but ultimately his love for Dany will prevail. As for Dany, I think that many people tend to forget that deep down the one thing she longs for most in life is a family, just as much if not more than her desire to sit on the Iron Throne. Any book reader or true fan would know this about her, despite how the show tends to portray her at times. This is why I think if D&D stay true to her character, she would never see Jon as a threat. He is the only real family she has left, and that will be more important to her than anything else.

Anyway, I really hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. It is one of my favorites so far.

As always I would like to thank everyone who has followed/favorite and left reviews. I also want to give a little shoutout to my friend 'K' who has helped with the story a lot.


	8. Dead End

"You're what?" Jon replied, letting go of her hand and standing up.

"It's still early but the Maester confirmed it this morning," she said, her voice quiet.

"I thought you said you couldn't." _The dragons are the only children I will ever have. Do you understand?_

He couldn't understand.

"I know what I said," she replied. "But prophecies are tricky…" Her mind wandered back to Rhaegar and his obsessions. _The dragon has three heads._ Look where it got him now.

"Dany you know this can't-we can't-" The words kept freezing in his throat; he had to work to get them out. This changed everything. "We can't deal with this right now."

"I know, I know." She drew her knees up to her chest and his heart broke at the sight of her. "Believe me, Jon, I didn't want this to happen. Not now… not like this."

He sat down beside her, and took her into his arms, her back against his chest. "I'm sorry Dany. I can't even imagine what this must be like for you."

"What are we going to do?" she spoke after a few minutes. "The White Walkers won't wait for a baby. War won't wait. We will probably be dead before this child even gets a chance to see the world."

"Don't say that."

"It's true," she continued, resting her hand on her stomach. She thought back to the last time she carried a child within her… it felt like another lifetime. "This is no world for our child."

"We will just have to fight to make it so that it is," he said, placing his hand above hers and turning to face her. "You said the words Dany, and you have to believe them. We will take what is ours with fire and blood."

She gave him a sad smile. Jon, speaking the words of her house… of their house. It should have been a happy moment. Her dream of having a family with a man she loved was coming to life but it felt more like a curse than a blessing. Yet another person, another child, she couldn't protect.

"We need to get married," he said, his mind circling back to a conversation he had with Sam many years ago. _Another bastard named snow… it's not a good life for a child._

He resolved then that, if nothing else, at least Dany would survive the coming storm. He would do whatever he had to do to make it happen, even if it meant he didn't live much longer himself. He would make sure his child would grow up with a mother… and a last name.

* * *

They spent the remaining hours of the day in the great hall. Tormund informed them that the White Walkers took Castle Black, and with confirmation from Bran, it seems as though they stopped there for now. Some men from Southern families had begun to arrive at Winterfell as well, but they weren't expecting more than a hundred or so.

"Something has to be done about Cersei," Sansa said, one of the few people in the room who still had the energy to continue what felt like an endless discussion. "How do we know she won't march North with her Golden Company?"

"Cersei?" Tyrion chuckled to himself. "Cersei won't step foot in the North. She will wait for most of us to die in the Great Battle, that way her conquest would be easier."

"Nothing is ever certain with Cersei," Varys said.

"We should be focusing on the real war," Jon said. "Aye, Cersei is the enemy. But we have a bigger enemy to worry about."

"And what of this bigger enemy? Do any of you know anything about the Night King?" Bran spoke, and the room fell silent.

"He left his mark on me, which means he knows where I am. He knows I can see him, and yet he allows it…" he said as he lifted his sleeve and held his arm up. "He has had his army for centuries, but only decided to march South now. There is a reason why he has waited for so long and why he will continue to wait. Jon, he could have killed you many times before, but he purposely didn't. He wanted Viserion, and he knew Daenerys would come with her dragons to save you. Everything he does is planned."

"Well, then tell us Bran! Tell us about the Night King and his master plan. We are running out of time here, fighting for extra hours not days. There is more at stake than you know!" Jon said, his voice about to break.

"It doesn't work that way Jon, I told you-" Bran said.

"Bran," Dany said, remaining calm while speaking to the young Stark. His siblings knew him as someone else in the past, and it was frustrating for them to see him like this, but that wasn't the case for her. She would be able to get to him, or so she hoped. "Why don't you just start by telling us what you know?"

"All right," he said, taking a deep breath in. "In the Dawn Age of Westeros, before the coming of man and the raising of castles and cities, there were only the Children. They worshiped nature and practiced magic, living peacefully in the forests until they were invaded by the First Men. The men began cutting down their trees, starting a war between the two species that lasted for thousands of years. At a time of desperation, the children decided to create the ultimate weapon. They plunged dragonglass into the heart of a man, and there the Night King was born... I'm sure you know the rest of the story."

It took a moment for anyone to even acknowledge what he had just said.

"So you… you're saying… you're saying that the Children created the white walkers?!" Sam finally asked, completely bewildered by this added piece of information that Bran had kept to himself. If only the maesters at the Citadel knew...

"Wait," Dany said. "Continue the rest, please."

Seeing her brother's eyes wander off into the distance, Arya was the one who continued the story. "Eventually they agreed to peaceful coexistence and signed the pact on the Isle of Faces in Gods Eye lake, granting the open lands to the men and the forests to the Children, but after thousands of years the weapon they created came back to haunt them in the War for the Dawn. The Children and the men defeated the Walkers in the end, and after that Bran the Builder raised the Wall the prevent their return."

"Old Nan used to tell us horrifying bedtime stories," Sansa commented and Arya smiled at her. "Anyway… it still doesn't tell us what he wants."

"Maybe he wants revenge," Tyrion said, and all eyes were now on him. "If what you're saying is true, the Children took his life away from him by turning him into a murderous ice beast. Maybe he wants it all to end, somehow."

"What significance does any of this hold?" Varys asked. "We cannot build battle plans based on mere speculations about the matters that conflicts the heart of the Night King."

"That's assuming he has a heart," Sam remarked.

"We need to find out more," Jon sighed and Dany held his hand from underneath the table where no one could see. Every road seemed like a dead end.

"Why don't we start evacuating those who cannot fight from the North. Can we at least agree on that?" Sansa asked.

"Your Grace," a new voice entered the room. It was Missandei, and Grey Worm was with her. "There are some people at the gates, they say they come here in peace… although I don't think we were expecting them."

* * *

Dany had to blink twice as she observed the hundreds of men who stood outside the gates of the castle. It was starting to get dark outside but she could see that they were definitely foreign. The men wore ornate armor over orange robes, and their faces were branded with tattoos of flames. _Who are these people?_

As the gate opened, the crowds of men began to move to the side and two figures emerged. A young and beautiful woman, Dany assumed by her clothing that she was a red priestess, and beside her was one of the soldiers.

The man spoke in high Valyrian, "Dāria Daenerys jelmāzmo, ao issi standing isse se presence hen se eglie voktys hen se mele Temple hen Volantis, se perzys hen Truth, se ōños hen Wisdom, se ēlī Servant hen se āeksio hen ōños."*

The Priestess herself now spoke, "Aōha dārōñe, ziry iksos nykeā pleasure naejot rhaenagon ao."*

"Se ao hae sȳrī. Nyke ryptan ao spread sȳz udir bē issa isse se dāez Cities. Nyke thank ao."* Dany replied.

"What is going on?" Jon said.

"This is Kinvara, the High Priestess of Volantis," Tyrion said, looking at the woman. "Good to see you again."

"And you Lord Tyrion," she replied.

"You have come a long way," Dany said.

"Yes we have," she now looked specifically at Jon and Dany. "Your Graces, I brought you my army, the Fiery Hand; a thousand men, servants of R'hllor, to aid you in the great battle to come. But I do ask for a favor in return." Another figure then appeared amongst the crowd, one that was all too familiar. "I need you to listen to what we have to say."

* * *

Translation

1* - Queen Daenerys Stormborn, you are standing in the presence of the High Priestess of the Red Temple of Volantis, the Flame of Truth, the Light of Wisdom, and First Servant of the Lord of Light

2* - Your Grace, it is a pleasure to finally meet you

3* - And you as well. I heard you spread good word about me in the Free Cities. I thank you.

* * *

And there it is! Sorry for the slight delay in updating, I was on holiday and my mind went a bit blank haha :D

I always thought Kinvara was such an interesting character and that she would have a bigger role to play. Linking her and Melisandre's storylines together just made sense, especially after Melisandre left for Essos in season 7…

As always thank you for supporting the story, keep it coming, and stay tuned for more!


	9. The Lord of Light

"Lady Melisandre, I told you that if you ever came back to the North I would execute you myself." Jon was the first to speak as Melisandre came to stand at Kinvara's side. The two women looked so similar, the red clothing, the chokers, and the fire in their eyes. Did all red priestesses look like this? Jon realized his knowledge of the religion and those who practice it was quite poor. He wanted to learn more about Essos, and even learn how to speak a few words in Valyrian. There is still so much he wanted to do.

Dany looked at Jon, baffled by his response. This priestess travelled all the way from Essos to provide them with an army. A thousand men, and weapons made of dragonglass. It was the first glimpse of hope she had seen in a long time. How could he respond to her like this? What had she done?

"Jon Snow, I am ready to die. If you or the Onion Knight wish to execute me so be it, for I have already completed what the Lord of Light has asked of me. I brought ice and fire together, and I have provided you with help for the war with the Others, just as I told you I would. You can kill me if you wish, you can burn me alive or have me hanged, but before that, I ask that you listen to what we have to say."

Dany looked at the two women. _I brought ice and fire together… his is a song of ice and fire._ "We thank you for your help, and we accept it with immense gratitude. You should all rest tonight, we can talk in the morning."

"Thank you, your Grace," Kinvara said with a smile.

* * *

"What was that all about?" Dany asked Jon once they were finally alone.

"Why is he always in your chambers and not mine?" Jon replied, looking at Ghost who rested on Dany's bed.

"Don't change the subject Jon," she said, moving to sit beside the large wolf.

"Dany…" he threw himself onto the bed beside them, taking a moment to stare at the ceiling for a while before speaking again. "Can we take a break from all this. It seems as though every hour of the day something new pops up; the cycle never ending. Let's run away to a little town in Essos where no one could find us."

"Jon!" she stared at him, about to laugh from pure disbelief. She placed the back of her palm to his forehead, "Are you all right my love? Have you gone mad?"

"Sometimes I wish I were. If I was mad, if you were mad… maybe we wouldn't care so much."

She sighed as she moved to rest her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. The heart that was only beating because Melisandre brought him back… because the Lord of Light was not done with him.

"Melisandre," he finally spoke. "She killed Stannis Baratheon's daughter, Shireen. She was young and innocent, and Ser Davos loved her like she was his own. He said the girl even taught him how to read. But Melisandre convinced herself and everyone around her that the girl had to be sacrificed. Her mother and father watched as she was burned alive."

"That's horrible," Dany said, unable to imagine how a parent could do that to their child. If there was anything she learned in the last few days it was that prophecy truly drove people to act without their senses. Tyrion once old her that prophecy is like a half-trained mule. It looks as though it might be useful, but the moment one trust in it, it kicks them in the head.

"It is," Jon said, trying to shake off the image he had of the young girl in his head. "When Davos found out he demanded I execute her right at that very moment but she persuaded me that it would be unwise. She said she would help me in the future, and here she is."

"She did bring you back after all," Dany traced her finger around his scars. "Plus she was the one who told me to summon you, and here we are."

"Still, we cannot trust in everything she says. She has made many mistakes and she admits it. We cannot afford to have her make another one."

"I know," she whispered, her breath warm against his chest. "I would never trust in anyone who could murder a child."

"We shall see what tomorrow brings," he kissed her forehead. "Come on, you need to rest."

* * *

The two dragons were woken up by a series of violent knocks on the door to Dany's chambers. They could hear muffled voices outside the room, but it was too early for either of them to decipher what was going on.

The door opened slightly and Missandei poked her head out, she had a frantic look in her eyes. "I am so sorry to disturb you your Grace, but Ser Davos has been looking for Lord Snow everywhere, he has woken the entire castle and I can't seem to stop him."

"Is he in there? Let me in!" they could hear Davos from behind the door, his voice too loud for the early hours of the morning.

"And so it begins," Dany said, getting up from the bed to put her garments on.

Jon sighed and got up to open the door.

"How could you?" Davos was screaming as he walked into the room, his face red and eyes bloodshot with anger.

"Davos, calm down." Jon spoke quietly.

"I told you Jon," he spoke through his teeth. "I told you what that girl meant to me."

"I know. And Melisandre will get the punishment she deserves. However, she brought us an army. She is only here to help, and she asks for one thing in return; that we listen to her and Kinvara in today's meeting. We cannot refuse the offer, you know we need the men."

"Call for me when the meeting is done." Davos said, looking at Jon and Dany. "I will execute her myself, and neither of you will stop me."

* * *

"Daenerys Stormborn," Kinvara spoke, her voice loud and clear as she stood in the middle of the hall with Melisandre at her side. "Man once again faces the War for the Dawn which has been waged since time began. On one side is the Lord of Light, the Heart of Fire, the God of Flame and Shadow. Against him stands the Great Other, whose name may not be spoken, the Lord of Darkness, the Soul of Ice, the God of Night and Terror."

"Does everyone from Essos speak like this?" Sansa muttered to Arya, loud enough so so only the two of them could hear. Arya rolled her eyes.

Kinvara continued. "For the last decade, red priests and priestesses, myself included, have spread the word that you have been sent to lead the people against the darkness, and the time has come to do just that. People even talked of you before you were born, but you can let Lord Varys tell you all about that. Isn't that right, Spider?"

Dany turned to look at Varys, who appeared to be petrified by the words of the high priestess.

"I thank you for spreading good word about me and for helping bring peace to Mereen," Dany spoke. "I keep hearing about this prophecy, about the one who was promised, but I am afraid I still don't know what it means, and it doesn't seem like all of the followers of the Lord of Light can agree on it either."

"It is true," Kinvara said. "We have been debating over the topic, especially after learning about the gift R'hollor has given you, Lord Snow."

"What about him?" Jon spoke, looking to Berric who sat on the opposite side of the room.

"He too has a role to play, and he knows what it is," Melisandre spoke. "But it is not the same as yours."

"I'm sorry, but am I the only one who has no idea what any of you are talking about?" Tyrion was now the one to speak.

"You're right my friend," Kinvara spoke. "We must go back to the when it all started…  
Many years ago, darkness lay over the world and a hero, Azor Ahai, was chosen to fight against it. To fight the darkness, Azor Ahai needed to forge a hero's sword. He labored for thirty days and thirty nights until it was done. However, when he went to temper it in water, the sword broke. He was not one to give up easily, so he started over.  
The second time he took fifty days and fifty nights to make the sword, even better than the first. To temper it this time, he captured a lion and drove the sword into its heart, but once more the steel shattered.  
The third time, with a heavy heart, for he knew beforehand what he must do to finish the blade, he worked for a hundred days and nights until it was finished. This time, he called for his wife, Nissa Nissa, and asked her to bare her breast. He drove his sword into her living heart, her soul combining with the steel of the sword, creating Lightbringer, the Red Sword of Heroes."

Melisandre spoke next. "Both of you fit the prophecy. When the red star bleeds and the darkness gathers, the one who is promised shall be born again amidst smoke and salt, he or she shall wake dragons out of stone, and he or she shall draw from the fire a burning sword.  
We cannot tell you who Azor Ahai is, but when the time comes, you will know. The Lord of Light will make it clear to all of you, and now you know what you need to do."

"The dagger that the young wolf holds is key," Kinvara said, her gaze shifting towards Arya. "The promised one must wield the dagger and pierce the heart of their beloved to forge Lightbringer and defeat the Others."

"This is insane," Sansa said.

"I agree," Jon was now angry. "Do you really expect this Azor Ahai reborn person to murder the one they love because of a prophecy? How many times have people died because of false prophecies? Think of Shireen Baratheon, or have we forgotten where she is now?"

"I have not forgotten and I never will," Melisandre spoke in a serious tone. "But I wouldn't have come here knowing I will face death if this wasn't the truth."

"Actually… there is some truth to what she says," Sam said standing up from his seat. "The dagger is more valuable than we think. I saw an image of it in a book I picked up from the restricted section at the Citadel. The weapon is one of a kind, made from both Valyrian steel and Dragonglass."

"Well then how did Littlefinger get a hold of it?" Sansa asked, now intrigued. "Valyrian steel weapons are passed on in great houses from one generation to the next. Baelish owns no castle and made up his own house all for himself, the dagger wasn't handed down to him by any legitimate means."

"Bran?" Arya asked, looking to her brother. Now all eyes on the room were on the last greenseer.

Bran sighed. "The dagger is a Targaryen relic from the times of Aegon the Conqueror. The last dragon to own it was Rhaegar Targaryen."

It was at that very moment when Dany felt her heart sink to her knees. "Lady Sansa, I kindly ask that you allow Lord Snow and I to speak to the Red Women… alone."

Sansa stared at Dany for a moment, shocked that the Queen would ask her permission for such a thing. Then again, this was her castle, and she was the Lady of Winterfell. She had not yet bent the knee to Daenerys, and she didn't know if she ever would, but she couldn't ignore the growing respect she had developed for the woman as the days went by. "All right," she agreed.

* * *

"Dany, you can't possibly believe all this," Jon whispered to her as the people were leaving.

She didn't know what to believe anymore.

Dany spoke once everyone was gone. "I once had a vision where my brother told me that his son, Aegon, would be the prince that was promised. "She turned to face Jon. "If the dagger belonged to Rhaegar, then it rightfully belongs to you."

"Daenerys, no..." he looked her in the eyes, unable to comprehend the whole situation. Did she really say what he thought she said?

"You are Rhaegar's son… of course you are," Melisandre spoke, her eyes wide with amazement. "Still, that doesn't change anything. Rhaegar himself thought he was the one who was promised at one point."

"Wait," Kinvara looked back at Dany. "What else did Rhaegar say in the vision?"

Dany looked at her curiously. "He said that the dragon has three heads. That there must be one more."

"And there will be one more, am I right?" Kinvara said with a smile.

Both Jon and Dany stared at the red priestess in horror, her words sending shivers down their spines.

It took a while for anyone to speak again."We thank you for the army you have brought but I think it's time for you to leave," Jon said as he stood up, taking Dany's hand in his.

"You will know what to do when the time comes," Kinvara said. The two women then turned around and began walking towards the door.

"Wait," Jon said. "I didn't say you could leave, Melisandre."

* * *

And the plot thickens... :D

I really hope you enjoyed this chapter, I certainly enjoyed writing it.

Thank you to everyone who has followed, favorited and reviewed this story. I am truly overwhelmed by all the support I have received so far.

Stay tuned for more!


	10. Bride of Fire, Bride of Ice

"I need to go speak to Davos," Jon said as he walked with Dany in the hallways of the castle. "We can't keep her locked up for too long… Do you want to come?"

She remained silent, but her grip on his hand grew tighter.

He stopped walking and turned to face her, placing both his hands on her shoulders supportively. "Dany, you cannot let what they said get to you. You just can't."

"She knew about our child, Jon," she whispered, her voice about to break. "Our unborn baby is already involved in all this mess."

"There is no point in thinking about what may or may not happen," he said. "Maybe neither one of us is the one who was promised. They don't even know who it is, so how could we? We will defeat the Night King in our own way. Without the help of cryptic messages and false prophecies."

"I hope you're right," she moved her hand to cup his cheek.

He didn't know if he was right, but he had to be strong for her. He would never show her that the words of the red priestesses actually shook him to the core. Although he was never the one to believe in prophecy, he could not deny that the Lord of Light brought him back from the dead. He remembered what Beric Dondarrion had told him when he asked the man about the Red God's purpose.

 _I don't think it's our purpose to understand_ , he said. _Except one thing; we are soldiers. We have to know what we are fighting for… we are fighting for life. Death is the enemy. The first enemy and the last._

 _But we all die,_ Jon had told him.

 _The enemy always wins, but we still need to fight him. That's all I know. You and I won't find much joy while we're here. But we can keep others alive. We can defend those who can't defend themselves. Maybe we don't need to understand anymore than that. Maybe, that's enough._

"Tonight we will get married," he said, placing his hand on her abdomen. "Our child will always be protected that way."

* * *

Arya Stark once again found herself observing her brother and his new Queen. She was curious as to why Daenerys asked to speak to the priestesses alone, although she did realize it had something to do with the mentioning of Rhaegar's name. Jon told her that they wanted to keep the truth about his identity as a secret, for now at least, and she agreed at the time. It would cause more conflict than needed and it may even distract people from the true fight in the North. However, looking at Daenerys and Jon now, the way she looked at him with fear in her eyes, vulnerability even… she knew there was something more to it. Then, by a mere gesture of hand, her suspicions were confirmed.

"Jon," she called out his name, and the two let go of each other. Daenerys whispered something in his ear and she walked away.

"Arya," Jon looked at his sister. "I was just on my way to speak to Davos."

"I need to talk to you before that."

He gave her a curious look. "All right," he said, and the two walked to his chambers.

"What is it?" he asked, sitting at the side of his bed. "Are you okay?"

"Daenerys is pregnant, isn't she?"

He looked at her with wide eyes. It took a while for him to speak. "Don't tell me you have been having visions as well?"

She laughed. "No… it's nothing but the simple skill of observation."

She waited for him to say something, but he didn't, his gaze remained fixed to the ground as he placed his elbows on his knees and held his face up with his palms. He looked afraid as well.

"What are you going to do?" she asked.

"Arya, I am sorry, but this is none of your business," he spoke, his voice muffled and low.

"Come on Jon! I can help you. I am your sister, or have you forgotten that?"

"Of course I haven't," he looked her in the eyes now. "I don't know what to do. It's not like I can tell her to go off to the Eyrie with the rest of the women and children. She is the Queen, she needs to ride her dragon and fight."

"Will you ride the other dragon?"

"What does that have to do with any of this?"

"All I am saying is that you cannot keep these secrets any longer. The people need to know you as their King, that's the only way they'll accept Daenerys as Queen and your child as a prince or princess."

"Is this what you came to talk to me about?"

"No," she sighed, realizing there was no point in talking to Jon about Daenerys. She would never be able to get to him, no one could. "I just wanted to let you know that I am going to be the one to kill Melisandre."

"What?" he exclaimed. "Why?!"

"She is on my list."

"Arya… what list?"

"The list of people I am going to kill. I only have a couple left…"

He stared at her in disbelief. He couldn't shake the image he had of her as a little girl from his head. What had she become?

"Who is left?"

"Cersei, The Mountain, Ilyn Payne, Melisandre, and Beric; although it seems like Gendry has forgiven him so I'm not too sure what to do about him."

"Well, you need to get in line behind Davos. He is rather adamant about killing her."

"Sansa is the Lady of Winterfell and she named me her executioner. She makes the decisions around here, not you or Daenerys."

"This is ridiculous," he was starting to get angry, especially because he knew she was right. However, he certainly was not ready for the world to know who he is. He was still trying to accept it himself, and to add other people to the equation would only make it more difficult.

"I am sorry Jon," she said. "But this is something I have to do."

"Fine," he eventually replied, making his way to the door. "You can tell Davos yourself."

* * *

"I was wondering when you'd come to speak to me."

Bran sat in his bedchambers, across from the fireplace. He didn't need to turn around to see who it was.

Jaime stared at the young wolf, still unable to believe that it was truly him. Although he had been in Winterfell for a few days now, he was still getting trying to accept it. That the boy he pushed out of the window many years ago was alive. He thought of his youngest, Tommen, and the way he left this world. The Gods do like to play their little games, don't they?

"To tell you the truth," Jaime took a seat next to Bran. "I don't know why I'm here."

"You're here because you feel sorry," Bran said almost instantly. "Because you want to feel better about yourself. And perhaps you're wondering why I haven't told anyone."

Jaime was unable to find the right words to say. What would he tell the boy? _I'm sorry I took away your ability to walk? I'm sorry I took your life away from you?_ No words could express the regret he felt. The Gods certainly made him pay for it, he lost his fighting hand, he lost all three of his children, and he even lost the woman he loved.

"Don't worry, I won't tell them," Bran continued. "My sisters would murder you if they found out, and that's not how you're meant to leave this world."

"I truly am sorry, Bran."

"I know you are. Because of you, Brandon Stark would never walk again. He would never become a lord, or a knight. He would never father children. But, I… I don't need to walk. Why walk when you can fly?"

* * *

"I have come to ask something of you," Daenerys spoke as she walked into Tyrion's chambers.

Tyrion turned around to look at her. "Let us sit and have a glass of wine first," he said. "You look like you need it, especially after that meeting."

She wouldn't refuse the offer to sit down. In reality, all she wanted to do was go to sleep.

"All right," he said as he poured her a glass. "What can your hand do for you?"

"Actually, I am here to speak to you as a friend, not my hand."

He stared at her for a moment. "Go on."

"I know you disapprove of my relatio-"

"I never said I disapproved of it," he finished his glass. "I was just worried about you. I still am… love never seems to end well in the Seven Kingdoms. Look at what happened to Robb Stark, to Oberyn Martell, to Rhaegar and Lyanna…

"Things are different now," she took a sip out of hers. "I have an heir to think about, and assuming he or she lives through this war, they need to be protected."

"So you're here to ask me if you should marry him?"

"No," she said. "I will marry him tonight, in a somewhat secret ceremony. However, it is of Northern custom for the bride to be given away by a member of her family; a father or a brother. And since I don't have either one… actually even if I did have one, I would still as-"

He stood up, interrupting her. "You want me to do it?"

"Come on," she teased. "Don't make me beg."

In that moment, he was reminded of why he chose her as his Queen. They might have not been on the best of terms lately, but at the end of the day she would always come to him for guidance… she would always look for a way to better herself. That made all the difference. That made her a leader worth fighting for, and a friend worth keeping.

He could do nothing but smile as he looked her in the eyes. "It would be my honor."

* * *

The godswood was strangely still and silent. The winds weren't harsh and the snow wasn't falling too hard that night, as if in preparation for what was about to happen. The only sounds were the crackle of the torches that lit up the pathway, and the shifting of feet as Jon and Sam waited next to the looming heart tree.

"I believe the last time we stood together by a Weirwood, we took the Night's Watch oath," Sam said, looking at the carved face on the tree trunk.

"We really stuck to our words," Jon said with a smile. "Feels like another lifetime."

"I really am happy for you Jon," Sam said. "This is what matters at the end of the day… despite the war and impending doom of the Others."

"Sam," Jon rolled his eyes.

"I am only kidding," he said, although they both knew he wasn't.

"Look!" Sam said, his eyes wide. "There she is. Come on, stand straight."

Jon watched as she walked towards him and his heart beat faster with every step she took. She was dressed in white furs, and that along with the color of her hair, made it look like she and the snow were one in the same. Her figure became clearer as she moved closer to him, and he could observe the little details. She let her hair loose and it fell across her shoulders so perfectly, blending with the snow flakes that fell to meet it from the sky. There was something so ironically beautiful about her, the Mother of Dragons and The Unburnt, as she walked out into the snow. She was both fire and ice.

Ultimately, when they were close enough, Sam nudged him forward, shaking him out of his trance. "Who comes before the Old Gods this night?"

"Daenerys, of the House Targaryen, comes here to be wed," Tyrion replied. "A woman grown and flowered, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessing of the Gods. Who comes to claim her?"

It took some effort for Jon to get the unfamiliar words out of this mouth. "Aegon, of the House Targaryen, heir to the Iron Throne. Who gives her?"

"Tyrion, of the House Lannister, her hand and her closest advisor."

"Queen Daenerys, will you take this man?" Sam asked.

"I take this man," Dany replied and he could see her eyes smile.

They joined hands as they knelt before the heart tree for the Old Gods to witness their union. Finally, they stood up and Jon unclasped his cape, draping it around her shoulders and carefully pinning it into place right above the neckline of her dress-and just like that, they had become man and wife. Jon then held on to the side of her face, pulling her closer and planting a soft kiss on her lips. Although it was not part of the traditional ceremony, he couldn't imagine a wedding ending without it.

While this Weirwood was the witness to many marriages, they were certainly the first Targaryens to be wed before it. It was funny, that neither Robb nor Ned married the Northern way. Jon reckoned that if they could have seen him at this very moment, they would have been proud.

"I love you," she whispered, her breath warm against the curve of his neck.

"I love you too."

* * *

Anddddddd there goes my heart. _Boom_. _Dead_. **#JonerysForever**

I hope you guys liked this light and fluffy chapter, I know I don't write enough of them so enjoy it while it lasts lol. _For the night is dark and full of terrors._

Once again I thank everyone who has supported the story and taken the time to write reviews, they mean a lot. Stay tuned for more!


	11. Dawn

Daenerys yet again found herself in an unfamiliar place. She stood in one of the few spots that was not inhabited by a Weirwood tree. She had never seen more than one of them in a single place, and there was something beautifully intimidating about seeing their blood-red leaves touch as their branches extended to meet each other. There were so many, and they were tall and large enough to hide the sky. The white wood of their trunks however blended well with the snow that blanketed the grounds. The only colors she could see were red and white; fire and ice.

As she walked between the trees, she couldn't help but notice that her feet left no marks on the snow. It was as if there was a thin layer of air that distanced her from the earth, despite her feeling that she was incredibly connected to it. She bent down to touch the ground but she couldn't. Something stopped her hand from reaching the snow. She kept trying, pushing with all her might to break the force, but it was no avail. The ground remained untouched; unbroken. This was a place where nature was strong enough to resist the hand of man.

"Mother," she heard the voice of a child from behind her. "Mother of dragons."

She turned around but could see no one.

"Mother," the voice continued.

"Where are you?"

"Close your eyes and count to three, when you open them you will see."

Dany followed the instructions and the voice came to life.

Before her stood a small figure, a unique being that she had never seen before. She looked like a little girl, except that she wasn't. Her skin was nut-brown, dappled like a deer's with paler spots, and her large ears peaked through the strands of silver-gold hair that fell wildly around her little shoulders. She was completely breathtaking and Dany felt herself gravitating towards her, like a flower leaning towards the sunlight.

The girl's green cat-like eyes were fixated on Dany's and when she was close enough, the girl grabbed her hand. "Come," she said, leading her to the nearest tree.

"What's your name?" Dany asked her.

"Dawn," the girl smiled and moved their entangled hands to touch the tree trunk.

Suddenly Dany found herself in a different place. It was a forest as well, but here there was no snow, and the trees were so tall she couldn't see where they ended. She wasn't the only person there.

Dawn was still beside her but her attention now shifted to the group of people who were speaking to one another, not aware of her presence.

"Bran?" she spoke, but he could not here her.

He was younger, and beside him was another young boy with golden curls. _Could it be Rickon?_ She thought, trying to remember what Jon told her about him. Before them stood a girl and a boy, who appeared to be slightly older than the two Starks. The two looked like siblings, and their cloaks were pinned in place with what she assumed was the sigil of their house, a lizard-lion, _House Reed._

The two looked to Bran and spoke simultaneously. _"To Winterfell we pledge the faith of Greywater. Hearth and harvest and we yield up to you, my lord. Our swords and spears and arrows are yours to command. Grant mercy to our weak, help to our helpless, and justice to all, and we shall never fail you."_

 _"I swear it by earth and water,"_ said the boy.

 _"I swear it by bronze and iron,"_ said the girl.

Their voices united once more. _"We swear it by ice and fire."_

Dany then returned back to where she was before, she let go of Dawn's hand and stepped away from the Weirwood.

"Why did you show that to me?" Dany asked.

"You need to know what happened here."

"But that was somewhere else."

"That doesn't matter, silly. Pay attention to what was said."

Dawn began to laugh, her high-pitched giggles filling the air with an odd sense of hope. The girl ran up to Dany, and wrapped her arms around her waist, her head head only reaching the bottom of her chest.

"Don't be afraid Daenerys," Dawn said as she let go of her. "When the time comes, you must be strong. Otherwise, all this will be lost."

Suddenly, Dawn disappeared and the ground started to shake. The red leaves of the Weirwoods fell from their branches and the carved faces on their trunks all shared the same expression of shock and fear, blood falling from their eyes. Eventually, the trembling ground turned red from the plethora of leaves and the dripping sap. It felt like she was standing in a pool of blood, unable to move her feet, unable to scream or call for help. She was stuck, sinking deep into the earth with no one at her side.

"Dany,"

"Dany,"

"Dany, wake up,"

"Wake up my love,"

Her eyes flung open and she attempted to catch her breath. She could see the moon outside the window, and a small torch burned away beside her bed, giving enough light to remind her where she was.

Jon wrapped his arms around her, and kissed her forehead."Shh," he spoke against her skin. "It was just a dream."

 _Was it?_

"I'm sorry for waking you," she eventually said, brushing her fingers through his hair.

"Don't apologize," he looked at her with worried eyes. "You've been having quite a few bad dreams lately."

"They say it's common for pregnant women… or at least that's what Missandei told me."

He placed his hand on the small bump of her stomach. "He is growing."

"He?"

"Or she. I have no preference."

She smiled. "With Rhaego, I knew he would be a boy from the very beginning. This one… I'm not so sure about."

 _Maybe I'll never live to find out,_ she wanted to speak the truth of the matter but couldn't. Dawn's voice lingered in her ears; _you must be strong._

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. Fearing the worst, they both got up to see who it was.

Sansa stood outside, her eyes tired and voice shaky. "Come to the hall at once. We need to talk."

* * *

Slowly people began to appear in the great hall, all woken up from their sleep and many didn't bother to change out of their night garments. The urgency of the matter was made clear to them all.

Sansa stood at the head of the main table, holding a letter in her hand.

"Sansa, what is it?" Arya asked.

"Bran left this in my chambers," she sighed, looking at the crumbled up piece of paper. "He's gone."

"Gone? What do you mean he's gone?" Jon stood up.

"He's gone, Jon. He left the castle a few hours ago, I don't know how he managed to leave without being seen, someone must have gone with him…"

"Where did he go?" Dany asked, although she felt like she knew the answer.

"He didn't say," Sansa replied. "There's more."

Tyrion spoke. "Worse than this?"

"He said he saw the White Walkers. They march towards Winterfell as we speak. He thinks they'll arrive by the next sunrise."

A series of gasps and whispers immediately filled the room. People started getting up from their seats, the room becoming louder and louder as panic began to unfold.

"Everyone calm down!" Jon spoke, his voice loud and clear. "We all knew this was coming. We have spent the last couple of weeks preparing for this day."

"We thought we'd face them with Bran at our side," Sam said. "He's the most valuable weapon we've got."

"No," Dany stood up. "Each and every single one of you is valuable. The dragons are valuable. Every one of us counts. Don't let this shake your confidence."

"She's right," Jaime spoke. "We have formulated the battle plans, the dragon glass is ready for use. We have the Red Fury, the Dothraki , the Unsullied, all the Northern armies and the men who travelled from the South to help. We are as ready as we can be."

Tyrion stood up. "I don't know if you are all saying this to make yourselves feel better about this imminent doom, but let's face the reality of the situation, what we have isn't enough."

Jon stared at him. "It will never be enough. That doesn't mean we run and hide. If we don't try to hold them off here they will continue to march South and the whole of Westeros will be theirs to take."

"Why did the little Lord run then?" The Hound spoke.

"He didn't run," Arya said. "There has to be a reason why he left. He spent every single day of his life in these last couple of years preparing for this. He knows what he is doing."

"Well, he could have mentioned the reason," Varys said. "He seems to fail to mention quite a lot of things."

"There is no use in discussing what could have been done," Dany said. "We can only only focus on what's coming."

"How can we do that when there is so much that has been left undone?" Gendry spoke. "There's a large number of weapons and armor that still has to be made, we don't have enough tents to set camp outside nor do we have enough wood to make fire. Seven hells, the Red Woman is still alive in the dungeons waiting for all of you to decide what to do with her!"

His words silenced the room.

"Melisandre will remain alive for now," Sansa finally spoke. "As the Lady of Winterfell it is my choice, anyone who goes behind my back will be dealt with as seen appropriate. Perhaps the White Walkers will kill her and end this discussion for us."

"We are wasting time," Jon said. "We should use these next few hours to complete all the essentials. Work now so that you can spend the night with your loved ones. That's all we can do at this point."

* * *

 **Valar Morghulis, the time has come.**

Had to do a little time jump there just to get things moving. To those of you who asked, when Jon bent the knee to Dany he lost the right to call himself King in the North and he told Sansa that she should be the Lady of Winterfell because of how she stepped up while he was gone. That's why all final decisions that take place in the castle are in her hands. If Jon decides to tell people who he is and call himself King of the Seven Kingdoms, then it's a different story, but for now that's not his priority. Plus, I am not done with Melisandre. She may think that she has completed all that she needed to do to help them in the upcoming war, but nah (#spoiler).

I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. Dany's dream was certainly one of my favorite things to write. If you are into GoT history and lore, I suggest you read up on the Isle of Faces. It will add a lot more meaning to this chapter and the ones to come.

As always, **thank** **you** to everyone who has supported this story. Stay tuned for more… next chapter will be wild.


	12. The Last Night

Looking around the dining hall of Winterfell, Daenerys couldn't spot a single man who didn't appear to be drunk. Although she had been in the North for some time now, she was still learning and getting used to the people and their traditions. For a moment, the chaos and the noise reminded her of the day she got married to Drogo, except that was a much bloodier event.

"Surely being intoxicated affects one's ability to fight," she remarked as she sat down beside Jon at one of the few empty tables in the back.

"Maybe, but it helps clear their minds." He doesn't sound too sure, but she doesn't push him on it. Everyone in that hall was stressed and afraid. How could they not be? They'll all be dead this time tomorrow.

She was almost certain that she would die. She had seen the army of the dead and their numbers were probably greater now. Even with her dragons, even if Jon carried a flaming sword, it would never be enough. She hoped that coming to the hall would distract her from thinking about the reality of their situation, but it only made things worse. Seeing others who were just as worried as she was only confirmed to her that she truly had a reason to be anxious.

What broke her heart the most was the fact that she now had something to live for; something that carried more meaning than her birthright or desire to take the Iron Throne. She carried a child within her, a sweet and innocent soul, half hers and half Jon's, that deserved to see a better world. She would do whatever she could to ensure the safety of her child but running away from this battle wasn't an option. She was a Queen above all, and her people needed her to fight for them and ride Drogon.

The hall reeked of ale and the men's voices were getting too loud. Jon noticed she was starting to get agitated. "Let's get out of here," he said. "There's something I want to show you."

He led her to the nearest stairwell and they had to step over a stable boy and a kitchen maid making love to each other in the corner. They trudged up the steps, twisting around hairpin corners and climbing higher and higher into the towers of the castle. As he held her hand she could almost feel the warmth pumping through him, she was all too aware of his heartbeat, pounding against his rib cage just like hers was. They could almost be that stable boy and that kitchen maid, sneaking away to be with each other. Strip away their titles and how different were they, truly?

Finally he opened a small wooden door and helped her up an old and rusty ladder that was attached to the wall. A wave of cool air hit her, nearly knocking her backwards, but she felt his hand on her back, strong and steady, and the idea that she could fall was not even a possibility. They stepped onto the flat roof of the tower and she was immediately struck by the enormity of the sky and the boundlessness of the stars. Jon took off his cloak and placed it on the ground for them. With no hesitation, she lied down, resting her head on his shoulder, her gaze still fixed on the sky.

"This was my favorite hiding spot," he spoke, his voice thick with remembrance. "They would count to a hundred and spend hours trying to find me… I won every time. Until, of course, the day Arya was old enough to play. She figured it out straightaway."

"I'm not surprised," she leaned in closer, looking to him for warmth as the cold seeped into her clothes and settled into her bones. "It must have been nice to grow up with so many siblings."

"It was," he wrapped his arm around her waist. "Would it be so foolish for me to hope that our child would have the same?"

"No, it's not foolish. We should try to be hopeful during times like this. It gives us a reason to fight harder."

"Don't fight too hard Dany," he whispered into the shell of her ear. "Please."

"The same goes to you!" in a burst of emotion she got up into a sitting position. "When I flew all three of my dragons beyond the wall, I did it for you. There was a moment when you could have rode Drogon with the rest of the men, but you didn't. You chose to stay behind and fight off the wights to make sure they got on first. You are so brave and I love that about you, but you cannot do things like that anymore. If I live, I need you by my side. Our child should have a father and a mother." Her voice broke on the last sentence. She knew all too well what it was like to have neither.

"Okay," he brought his hand up to caress her cheek, but she knew he only said it to make her feel better. Jon was inherently bold and heroic, and although those were some of the qualities that made her love him, now was a time when she wished he didn't have them.

"I mean it, Jon."

"I know," he pulled her back to the ground.

It took a while for her to speak again. "What does it feel like to die?"

"You're not going to die Dany…"

"It's just a question."

He sighed, brushing his fingers through her hair. It wasn't his favorite thing to talk about. "It hurts at first, but it's quick. You'll barely know what's going on."

"And what happens after?"

"Nothing."

She scrunched up her eyebrows. "Nothing?"

"That's how it was for me. Maybe you should ask Beric, he's been through it six or seven times."

She laughed, but only for a moment. Like every good thing she ever had… it lasted only a moment.

She slowly turned to face him, and the look in her eyes, a combination of sorrow and yearning and desire, was so strong it quickened his pulse. They've both faced countless losses, both been misjudged and underestimated, both grown up alone and tasked with the impossible mission of saving the people they knew and cared about, and the people they didn't. No one else could appreciate how lonely and isolating the life of a ruler, of a savior, could be.

He kissed her because thinking and speaking became too dark and unbearable. His lips met hers and she instantly relaxed into his touch. He started slowly, moving to her forehead, the tip of her nose, the edge of her neck, and then to the little sensitive spot underneath her collarbone. She let out a sigh of pleasure and pulled him back to her mouth, their tongues dueled as they explored each other. She scribbled her fingers in his hair and bit down gently on his lower lip, sending a shock of heat through him that made him forget they were outside.

She wanted him suddenly, desperately... "Jon," she whispered his name in between breaths, wanting to tell him that they should continue inside, but he couldn't stop now. His hand found its way underneath her dress, tracing her soft curves and lingering over her breasts, feeling them stiffen against his palm. He brushed against the curve of her stomach and continued down over her hips, teasing her, his fingers dancing slowly across her folds. Finally he paused at the spot he knew all too well, applying more and more pressure until she moaned against his lips.

She took a moment to memorize each of the breaths he took as he continued to explore her with his hands and his lips. She studied him; all too aware their movements, never wanting to forget what it felt like to be this consumed with love and passion. Suddenly, she had to pull back as the revelations struck her, one after the other. That this may as well be the last time she would feel his body over hers, the touch of his fingers and the warmth of his breath against her skin. That they may never go to sleep and wake up together again. That they may never live to rule at each other's side wearing the colors of their house. That they may never witness their child's first steps, or first words, or first name day… That they would never die of old age, surrounded by their grandchildren, unable to live a day without each other.

He looked her in the eyes and that was all he needed to understand what was going on in her head. He sighed, wanting to tell her it would be okay, but he wouldn't lie. Instead, he held her close, tenderly, in a way he never has before.

They remained like that in each other's arms for a while before he spoke. "Whatever happens come dawn, in the time that I have known you, you have given me more than I could have ever asked for." His voice was low, a little more than a whisper. "You showed me, even if too late, that I wasn't alone."

But she heard, and it was enough. Their river ran dry and they were out of time. The gods gave eternities to some, others barely an hour, and they had this night. The last dragons, together on the rooftop of a Northern castle on a dark and chilly night… it had to be enough.

* * *

 **A/N: **Hello all! Thank you for reading. Although I initially planned for this chapter to go straight to the battle, I gave in to my Jonerys shipping heart and wanted to write a bit of smut/angst/fluff and all that good stuff first.

Hope you enjoyed it, stay tuned for more!


	13. The Dance of Dragons

"So you say it's best to speak to him in Valyrian?" Jon asked Dany as he stood beside her and their two dragons on the battlefield. The sun had just made its appearance in the sky, and the morning air felt colder than usual.

"We've been through this already Jon," she grabbed his hand. "You know the basics, and I told you that the bond between a dragon and its rider goes beyond words. It's a feeling."

Jon sighed as he rested his free hand on Rhaegal's wing. The dragon named after his father; he couldn't deny that he was uniquely connected to the creature. He hoped that all the time he spent working tirelessly with him would pay off, and that if he needed to ride him he would come to his call. Although he could carry out enough damage on the battlefield with Longclaw in his grasp, knowing that the Night King rode Viserion he needed to make sure that he would be able to come to his wife's aid with Rhaegal if she needed them.

His gaze shifted to the armies that stood in formation before them; thousands and thousands of men, and some women as well, who had come to fight in the war against the dead. Some of them had known war; having held weapons in their hands from the tender age of five, while others only learned how to carry a shield in the last week. He looked at the Unsullied and Dothraki, foreigners from lands and places across the sea that he had never heard of, and he was amazed at how they stood fiercely without fear in their eyes, completely ready to risk their blood to fight for hers. Dany was the Queen they chose. She had inspired them all, and today he would fight so that she could live to inspire more.

He pulled her closer to him, wrapping his arms around her waist as she leaned back into his touch, holding her hands above his. He could feel the small swell of her belly, and he took a moment to remember what it felt like, to have her in his arms and his child resting beneath his palm. There was only one thing he was sure of; he needed to keep them alive.

"Your grace," Tyrion's voice shook him out of his trance. "My brother is at the front, he says everything is ready now."

"Good," Dany said, breaking away from Jon's clasp but still keeping his hand in hers. She wasn't ready to let go just yet. "I hope you're not planning on going to the front."

"Last time I was at the front of a battle I was trampled on by hundreds of men," he said with a smile.

"I should make my way now," Jon said, the words torn from his throat with such reluctance.

Dany swallowed deeply and closed her eyes, and Jon could see the tears that slid from their corners. "I'll see you soon, okay?" she said softly as she opened them back up to meet his gaze.

He nodded and he leaned closer to plant a tender kiss on her lips. He couldn't care less if anyone was watching.

As she watched him go to the front, she felt someone else come to her side.

"I almost feel bad for the walker who would come up against you," she said once the young wolf stood close enough.

"Thank you. Although I must admit… you that are the true hero of this war. You brought all these men to the North and you're riding your dragon… despite your condition."

Dany turned to face her, at a loss for words.

"The keep is east to the Wolfswood," Arya continued. "Remember this. The forest is vast, and you can lose yourself in it if needs be."

Before she could answer, a sound that was all too familiar to her pierced the air. The time had come.

* * *

Dany felt her heart sink to her feet as she heard Drogon and Rhaegal cry back, as if trying to communicate with the brother they thought was gone. _It's not him,_ she told herself. _Zaldrīzes buzdari iksos daor, and this thing is a slave to the night king. He isn't your Viserion._

"Be careful Daenerys," Tyrion told her as he watched her mount Drogon.

She looked her Hand in the eyes. "You too, my friend."

There was no sign of Viserion as she flew higher into the sky. Could she have imagined his cries? No… Drogon and Rhaegal heard it to. Or perhaps they all imagined it. She watched from above as the dark horde of the dead crested over the hill. They emerged from all sides, their numbers seemingly larger than before. She circled the area, trying to stay as high as she could, but she couldn't see the Night King. Could all of this be a trap? It was possible. But she could not diverge from the original plan.

As the dead marched closer, she flew lower until she was close enough to see their armies and all the catapults they had lined in arrangement for an aerial attack. She observed the scene below her, the men that drew their weapons; the dragon glass, the Valyrian swords, the flaming spears and the Arakhs. The flags marked with the sigils of the houses Targaryen and Stark that were scattered across the field. It was truly a sight to behold. They may not have enough numbers, but their armies were strong and they would not go down easily.

The moment the dead were close enough, she launched their first line of defense. The line of barrels filled with oil that they had strategically placed across the field was lit, and it was so that Dany had broken the stalemate. She watched the dead fall to the ground as they burned away, but the ones behind simply crawled over them and continued on to clash with the living.

* * *

"Nock!"

Jon could hear Jaime Lannister yelling as he rode his horse up and down the lines. The archers lit the tips of their arrows on fire, aiming towards the sky.

"Draw!"

They pulled back, gazes fixed ahead as they waited for the final command.

"Loose!"

Thousands of arrows lit the dim horizon above, and he watched as the ground turned red; ice melting from the beacons of fire. But the dead kept coming.

"Shields up!" Jon shouted and the men collided, the first row covering their lower halves, the second the upper halves and the third protected their heads. The dead bodies smashed into the blockade, running straight into the swords and spears that peaked through the gaps.

It lasted only a while, before their numbers grew too much and they couldn't hold any longer. The dead scuttled over each other, falling in between the shields and attacking the living. Their screams and cries filled the air as the opposing forces finally clashed, and soon it became hard to distinguish the two.

"Get to the walkers!" Jon yelled as he plunged a dragonglass blade into the neck of a wight. All those who held Valyrian steel weapons were tasked with fighting the walkers, and the remaining fighters knew to make way for them to do so.

He could see Daenerys and Drogon, disappearing into the clouds and coming out again to add fire to the grounds. _Gods keep her safe,_ he prayed silently. He feared for his sister as well although he knew he didn't need to. She fought beside him and he watched as she spun in a circle and taking out several wights in a single motion. She didn't require his prayers.

Soon the Dothraki and the other soldiers on horseback came in from both sides, trampling on the moving skeletons with their horses and shooting them down with their dragonglass arrow heads. The Unsullied held their positions in tight circle formations and R'hollor's army launched fire on the dead with their pointed spears.

Ghost never leaves Jon's side as he tried to make his way to the closest walker, protecting him at every angle with ears pricked all the way forward and eyes as red as the fire that filled the sky. Jon could see Brienne also moving towards a walker to the far right of the field, and she had Tormund in front of her swinging his axe in one hand and slashing through with his dragonglass blade in the other.

At the far left of the field where the Hound and Berric fought, he could see a half decomposed mammoth barreling through the men and swinging its colossal tusks at any who cross its path. Burning arrows were launched at the beast but it made no difference, it continued to move forward, stepping on the men like they were ants. As if to Jon's will, Rhaegal suddenly came to their aid, making an appearance from behind the clouds and flying downwards to light the mammoth up in flames.

"Jon!" Arya called from behind him. He curved to the side to avoid a rusted blade and pulled himself back, using the momentum to stab the bottom of the wight's jaw. "Keep forward!"

He looked to her, mouthing his thanks, and he continued to tear through the wights that came his way. At the edge of the sky, Jon caught a glimpse of what could have been Viserion, but he couldn't be too sure. The thing moved fast and he had to keep his eyes forward as he slashed his blade through another wight's torso. He looked to the sky again, to see if Dany took notice but now he couldn't see her either.

Jon heard the sound of shattering glass and turned his head to see that Brienne had managed to attack the Walker, her Valyrian blade plunged straight into its chest and hundreds of wights turned to dust with it. Soon Arya had done the same, managing to slash his father's dagger straight across a Walker's neck, and he watched as more wights shattered and fell to the ground. He could no longer see Jaime but his voice could still be heard as he continued to shout commands and run down the lines, telling the men to target the wights around the walkers. But there were still too many of them, and Jon couldn't ignore the thoughts at the back of his mind. Where was the Night King? And where was Dany?

* * *

Finally, he made an appearance. The Night King wasn't subtle about it but he kept away from the heat of the battle. Behind him the ice shattered, sending sharp glass everywhere around him, for he truly controlled the winter. Dany surveyed him from afar, large wings sprung from his back, frayed and thin. As she flew closer, her eyes widened at the scene of the undead dragon; his features still so familiar it rent her heart to see him.

"Viserion," she whispered in remorse.

Dany flew with Drogon, so far into the distance; the battlefield was left out of her vision. The Night King continued forward, not turning to face her. She couldn't understand what he was trying to do, but she was unable stop herself from following them. Her hatred and wrath grew towards the King of the Dead who dared to take Viserion away from her; who stripped the world of one of its only lasting wonders. He made a slave out of her child, an abomination, a monster who wouldn't think twice before killing its own mother. Oh, and he would pay. He would learn what happens to those who evoke the dragon's fury. She was her father's daughter after all.

She secured her grip on Drogon, and flew straight towards them with such force and magnificent speed, it forces the Night King to turn his head to meet her gaze. His eyes were cold and emotionless as he turned Viserion around to face them, and with no hesitation the undead dragon spit its blue flames directly at its mother and brother. It was such an unfamiliar sight to her; she needed a moment before she could strike back.

"Dracarys."

And for the first time ever, red and orange collided with the unnatural blue in a battle between fire and ice.

* * *

After killing a second walker, Jon's attention was stolen away by the sudden outburst of color in the sky. It was so far away but he could still see the orange flames encountering the blue and he watched as everyone around him lifted their heads to behold the exceptional display.

"Stay focused Jon," he could hear Arya from beside him.

She was handling herself better than most. They had been fighting for some time now. Many had died and those who still lived grew tired, Jon could see it in the way Jorah's movements became disordered, and how Gendry's breathing grew labored and strained as he swung his war hammer. He watched his sister and even Brienne in the distance; the two fought fiercely, not losing stamina for one moment, and he realized what a shame it was that not all women were given the opportunity to learn how to fight. He would change that, if he ever became King.

"Why aren't they fighting here?" Jorah spoke in between breaths, looking to the sky. "She should be leading him towards the scorpion."

Before he could reply, the sound of a dragon's cries filled the air and Jon got an intense feeling of fear and dread as Rhaegal flew towards him. Even Ghost began to howl at the sky. Something's wrong, he knew it.

Rhaegal burned away the wights that surrounded them and he landed himself on the ground, spreading his wing out for his rider. Arya looked at Jon, and he could see the fear in her eyes as she knew what he was about to do.

"I have to go," he told her. He could care less about the Northern men who stopped to watch him as he mounted Rhaegal, completely baffled by the sight of a Stark, a man they had once called King in the North, riding a dragon so naturally like it wasn't his first time. They didn't know what it meant, and perhaps they never would.

"Sōves," Jon whispered, and just like that he was lifted into the sky. "Come on boy," he spoke in English now. "Let's go to your mother."

* * *

Dany had to keep Drogon moving. Rising, falling, twisting and hiding in the grey clouds that had concealed the sun. She would come out when only she was ready to strike, and immediately go back into the shelter of the shadows. Viserion was stronger and faster now, and she could not stay still, not even for a moment. But she was getting tired, from screaming commands and holding on to Drogon with all her might as he continued to take sharp turns in and around the clouds. She prayed that the child she carried within her would hold on too.

Suddenly, she heard the screams of a third dragon, and she turned her head to find Jon and Rhaegal riding her way. If only Rhaegar were alive to see this. Jon came to her side, leveling Rhaegal with Drogon and looking at her with a forbidding resolve; he would not let her fight alone. She had a passing, absurd thought that this must be how it was when the dragons last danced in rebellion against one another.

And then they attack. Two brothers against one. Fire against ice. Jon and Dany worked together as well as they had planned. Drogon and Rhaegal were constantly switching positions, attacking and hiding, and one was never without the other. They tried to steer the fight closer to the battlefield where the scorpion could be in their view, but it was difficult, as the Night King seemingly wanted to keep moving forward and away from Winterfell. It was as if he sent his forces to the battlefield to distract the living while he continued on, tasked with his own personal mission.

Out of a sudden, Drogon made a downward dive that Dany was unprepared for. As she tried to recover her balance, she saw a spear move across the horizon and fall to the ground. She then watched as a group of walkers emerged from within the forest beneath them, completely separate and hidden from the battle that was occurring to their right. They dragged a cart that was filled with spears similar to the one used to take down Viserion many months ago.

She was right… this was a trap.

"Dany! We need to fly back!" Jon screamed.

But it was too late.

One of the spears found its way into Drogon's left wing and Dany found herself grabbing onto him with all the strength she had as her dragon fell from the sky. Drogon let out a shriek that was so loud and powerful, she was shocked it hadn't shattered the earth open. Immediately, the Night King flew Viserion back into the forest, while Rhaegal cried alongside his brother, diving down in a desperate attempt to save them from the fall.

Jon could see Drogon trying to flap his right wing, but it came to no avail, and all he could do was pray that Dany would stay holding on to him as he hits the ground. Rhaegal flew downwards with immeasurable strength and velocity but he would never make it in time.

He could only watch as she fell off Drogon when there was still a reasonable amount of air that separated the dragon from the ground. The dragon's large body dropped with a loud thud, and horror beyond measure consumed Jon, leaving him breathless as he landed only a few seconds later, a few seconds too late. He called out her name, again and again as he tried to find the spot where she had landed amidst the dust and the slush that rose from the ground as Drogon fell.

And then he saw her, lying on the snow, broken. If ever there was a scene so horrid and against nature it was that of a Queen who freed cities and broken chains fallen. Jon rushed towards her, and upon seeing her blood seep through her white and grey furs he froze, unable to breathe, or swallow, or move.

"Jon," she said his name, her voice was faint but it brought him back to life. He kneeled to the ground, taking her head in his lap and fighting back the tears that threatened to fall from his eyes.

"Don't speak," he whispered. "You need to save your strength."

Her lips were blue and her skin was so pale, almost as white as the snow that she lay in. She placed her hand on her abdomen, and he could see her eyes brim with tears as she feared the worst.

He placed his hand over hers. "The blood is coming from your back, Dany. You'll be fine. Our child will be fine."

Whether he said that to comfort her or to comfort himself he didn't know.

He picked her up from the ground and shuddered at the feel of her warm blood on his skin, knowing that the wound was open and still flowing. He carried her onto Rhaegal, and she remained in his arms as they flew back to the castle. He wasn't going to let them die today.

* * *

 **A/N:** Wooo, there it is. Longest chapter yet and my first ever attempt at writing a battle scene.. I hope you guys enjoyed it. I'll try to get the next chapter out as soon as I can, don't want to leave ya'll hanging for too long lol.

As always thank you to everyone who has supported this story and left reviews, and I apologize to those who told me that my previous chapter made them cry haha :D

Stay tuned for more!


	14. Dragon and Wolf

By the time they got to the castle, Dany had lost consciousness. Jon ran to the gates as he carried her limp body in his arms, her blood now soaking his clothes and turning them red. The battle was over, but the war was not won. The Night King marched South with the remaining walkers and wights that he didn't send out to the battlefield. A sudden and unexpected feeling of anger overtook him, and although he tried to suppress it, he couldn't help himself. He was angry with his younger brother. The brother who left them at the worst time possible. If Bran were here he would have seen them hiding out in the woods, he would have known that it was all a trap, and Dany wouldn't be laying lifeless in his arms.

 _How could he let this happen?_.

Jon looked down at her and even now she was still the most beautiful being in the world. He knew, without doubt, that he would not be able to go on if he lost her. With every death of a loved one, from Rickon to Ygritte… he lost a piece of himself each time, but he managed to carry on. He fought to make sure their deaths weren't in vain. But that could never be the case with Dany. What would there be to fight for if she was gone?

"Jon!" Davos called out upon seeing them arrive. He took a moment to take in the sight before him. "Jon, what happened?!"

"Call the maester! And Sansa!"

The two of them rushed inside and Jon entered the nearest chambers where he could rest her body on a bed. He unclasped the pin he gave her that secured the top of her cloak and pulled her out of the thick furs that allowed her to hide their secret. It wouldn't remain a secret for long.

His heart sank as he saw the gushing wound that ran across the right side of her body, from the bottom of her breast all the way to her back. The surrounding skin was bruised and her entire body completely pale.

"Jon?" Sansa said as she walked into the room with Sam and the Maester. He could see her stop as she came closer, her eyes shifting to his hand that rested on the swell of Dany's abdomen.

Sam immediately moved to feel her wrist. "She is alive, but her pulse is weak."

"We need to close the wound," Maester Wolkan said. "I'll go get the supplies."

"The Queen… she's with child," Sansa finally found it in herself to speak.

"My wife," Jon said, his voice thick and low. "My child."

She looked up in time to see the agony that blurred his eyes and caused his face to fall as he stared at the woman. It's a sight she had never seen on her brother. A fierce protectiveness ran through her as she reached out to grab his hand and squeeze it tightly. Suddenly, the rules and the politics didn't seem to matter. All she saw before her was her brother and the woman he loved, and all she felt was his pain.

"Sansa I need you to stay with her," he pleaded. "I'll be back as soon as I can but I have to bring Drogon back to the castle. He can't fly."

"I won't leave her sight. I promise." She sat at the bedside and took Dany's hand in hers. The Dragon Queen was a part of her family now.

* * *

Jon rested his hand on Drogon's neck as the beast huffed on the snow in the courtyard. He managed to pull the spear out of his wing, but it left a considerably large and painful hole that would need time to heal. The absence of Daenerys was stark in that regard, she should be here to comfort her hurt child.

The men who were still alive were slowly returning through the gates, and Jon knew that at one point he would need to go out and burn the bodies on the battlefield, but it didn't feel right. Most of them were Dany's men who travelled across the Narrow Sea to die in the cold winter. Jon knew that she would want, as difficult as it would be, to be the one who would see them off to join whichever gods they worshiped.

He returned back inside as quickly as he could after making sure Drogon would be okay. The news that the Queen was injured would have travelled fast, as Missandei, Tyrion were in the chambers now as well. Jon mouthed his thanks to Sansa who had remained at his wife's side, and she moved to allow him to take her spot.

"She is doing better," Sam said, resting a hand on Jon's shoulder. "She is fighting hard, but I'm afraid it may not be enough."

"What do you mean?" Jon turned to look at his best friend.

"The Queen lost a lot of blood," Maester Wolkan said. "She has not yet lost the babe, but if things don't improve quicker I expect-"

"No," Jon stood up. "That cannot happen."

"We are trying our best my Lord,"

"You have to try harder!"

"I probably shouldn't be suggesting this but it's the only thing I can think of," Sam muttered.

Jon looked up to meet his eyes. "What is it Sam?"

"It's not the most conventional way of doing things… and I've only read about it being done once or twice,"

"Sam! What is it?!" Sansa was now the one getting impatient.

"I want to give the Queen blood," he spat out.

'That is absurd!" Maester Wolkan exclaimed.

"Wait!" Jon said. "Let him finish."

Sam cleared his throat. "It can be risky, especially if the donor isn't a close match, but if you were the one to provide the blood… it's the best chance she's got."

The vein in Maester Wolkan's forehead looked as if it was about to burst. "My Lord, Samwell Tarly has not completed his training, he is not a Maester."

"Aye," Jon spoke. "But he cured Jorah Mormont's Greyscale when none of the Maesters at the Citadel could. I think that says enough."

He turned to look at Sam. "Are you sure you can do this?"

Sam went to grab what looked like a needle and a small glass bottle from the supply box. "Lift up your sleeve and sit down. This may sting…"

* * *

There was nothing but blackness surrounding her. It was quiet, peaceful even, and she didn't mind it at all. She would hear an occasional murmur, indistinguishable voices, but she preferred the quiet. She was so tired. Too tired to rise to what she supposed was the surface. She stayed, drifting along in the dark, forgetting everything and everyone.

Suddenly, amidst the shadows, a pair of blue eyes appeared. A cold and uncomfortable shade of blue, and they were slowly moving closer to her. She could feel her heart beating faster and harder against her ribcage as the darkness lost its serenity and turned into a place of nightmares.

She would take a step backwards as the eyes grew nearer but she knew she would run out of space soon enough. She couldn't stay here.

Then, out of nowhere, she was able to make out a whisper of a sound. And the blue eyes vanished.

 _Dany._

She knew that voice. She could feel the visceral pull that lifted her up towards the sound.

 _Open your eyes, please._

 _I'm trying,_ she wanted to say. But she didn't know how to return. The plea echoed within her, resonating through her and demanding that she respond to it.

 _Don't leave me here alone._

 _No, I don't want to,_ she thinks, struggling with all her might to pull herself, little by little, abandoning the abyss.

 _Stay with me._

 _Always_ , her mind whispers as she surges towards the surface.

He brought her back.

* * *

It was just the two of them in the chambers. Jon held her hand with both of his, and watched as her eyes flickered as he spoke to her. He knew she heard him, he felt it. It had been hours since he gave her his blood, and Sam said it was only a matter of waiting. But he grew impatient. He needed her in this very moment and in all those to come.

"Stay with me," he whispered into the shell of her ear.

And then he felt her fingers move slightly against his, and momentarily her eyes followed. He watched as she struggled to open them, but soon the amethyst eyes he knew too well met his own. She looked at him with relief, but then vulnerability overtook her as she moved her free hand to settle low on her stomach.

"Dany," he said softly.

She turned to him, groaned slightly at what he knew would be the burning pain of her wound. "Jon," she whispered, "please." He quickly grabbed a mug of water and helped her take a sip to soothe her throat. "Tell me, please."

"You're fine," he reached to place his hand above hers. "The two of you."

"What about Drogon?"

"I brought him back to the castle, he is wounded but he will heal."

And then she grasped at Jon's hair and pulled him to her for a kiss, a silent celebration. "Thank you my love," she whispered against his skin.

The door to the chambers then slightly opened, and Sansa peaked her head through the crack. "I'm sorry to disturb you, but we thought we heard voices," she said.

"Come in," Daenerys said.

Sansa walked in the room, followed by Tyrion and Sam.

"I just need to check a few things your Grace," Sam said.

She nodded and he proceeded to feel her wrist and check on her wound. He then grabbed a metal horn-like object and placed it on her abdomen, bringing his ear to its end.

"The heartbeat is good and strong," he said with a smile. "Would you like to listen, Jon?"

Jon tensed up for a moment before kneeling down to hear it, and then sighed with relief and gratitude as he heard the fluttering noise through the metal piece.

"You dragons are hard to take down," Tyrion spoke from the edge of the bed.

That was when they heard what seemed to be thunder, growing louder, louder each moment. Breaking into the rumble were the piercing screams. Jon reluctantly pulled away from the bed and stood.

"What's going on?" Dany asked.

"It's your men, your Grace," Tyrion said. "They want to know their Queen is alive. They are threatening to leave if not…"

"Where is Grey Worm?" she asked, grimacing at the pain of her wound as she spoke. "Let me speak to him!"

"He cannot be found," Tyrion looked to the ground.

She gulped hard. "How many have we lost?"

"It's difficult to ascertain but we think we are down to a hundred thousand."

"That's half the number we had yesterday," she muttered.

"All the men fought extremely hard your Grace," Tyrion continued. "The numbers could be worse. We can still fight them."

Sansa spoke now. "What is there left to fight? We have no idea where the Night King is going and how many follow him. For once, the North seems safer than the South."

"We cannot just allow the Night King to march South. For all we know he has gone to gather more of the dead to bring back up North." Jon said.

"Jon," she turned to face him. "If I died today, my army would have left with me. You wouldn't have enough men to continue the fight against the dead. That is not acceptable. They need to fight for you as they would for me."

"What are you saying?" Jon took her hand.

"She is saying that it's time the world knows who you are," Tyrion said. "King Aegon and Queen Daenerys, husband and wife. It is the only way to ensure that each of your men will fight for the other if something was to happen to one of you."

"And what of the Northern men?" Jon asked. "Will they still look to me as their leader when they find out I'm a Targaryen?"

Sansa cleared her throat. "The North is sworn to House Stark. When we bend the knee, the rest will follow. I would be surprised if anyone sees it any other way, especially considering the sacrifices the Dragon Queen has made to fight for their kingdom."

"She is right," Tyrion said. "They probably already have their suspicions after you took off from the battlefield riding a dragon."

Jon took a deep breath in as he tried to picture it all. He saw himself in Targaryen armor, standing with Ghost at one side and Rhaegal at the other. Soon, he could be holding a silver-haired babe in his arms. He was both dragon and wolf, and he was proud of it.

"All right," Jon turned to face Dany. "We'll do it. I am done hiding."

* * *

 **A/N:** ayyy! Here is a relatively sweet and angsty chapter for you all after the craziness of the battle. Sam saves the day once again, and all is well (well not all.. #whereisgreyworm)

There are still many questions I left unanswered but I am saving it for future chapters as you can tell. I just wanted to thank everyone for the great responses I received for last chapter, I truly loved reading what you had to say about it!

As always, keep up the support and stay tuned for more. There is a lot more drama to come... trust me.


	15. Fire and Blood

"I have to come with you," Dany winced as she tried to lift herself off the bed. The burning pain of her wound was still intolerable, and her back so bruised she wasn't able to bend it.

Jon quickly held her down. "You can't," he spoke gently. "You need to rest."

She rolled her eyes. "Jon, you cannot announce this without me being there. And my men need to see that I am alive."

"We can simply tell them you're alive," he argued.

"They deserve more than that."

"I'm afraid Daenerys is right," Tyrion said. "You must stand side by side."

"She can barely stand right now," Jon mumbled under his breath.

"The Queen is stronger than you think," Sansa added and Dany smiled at the young woman. Just yesterday, the red headed Northerner would barely look her in the eyes, let alone compliment her. Indeed, tragedy was good at bringing people together.

Jon sat on the edge of the bed to face Dany and as her eyes met his with fierce determination he realized it was impossible to refuse her. "Can I at least carry you on the way?"

She let out a soft chuckle and brought her hand up to cup his cheek, nodding her head in agreement to the deal. She wouldn't be able to walk that far anyway.

* * *

She shivered against his body as he carried her all the way to the parapets, the icy wind stinging at her wound despite the thick layers furs she wore to cover herself. She could feel Jon's concerned gaze like a heavy weight on her shoulders but she tried to ignore it and keep her eyes ahead. Once they got there, he walked her to the edge of the parapet where she could be seen. He watched as her face fell, lips trembling as she took in the sight before her.

The ground that was once white and untouched now became a mixture of mud and blood. Ash covered everything like a light blanket, hiding the dead that lay underneath. Targaryen and Stark armor scattered all over the ground, their flags burned in the distance, and the living stood in puddles of red.

It was only the Unsullied and Dothraki that remained on the field. For they were strangers in this land; having no family to come collect their bodies, having no one to turn to after a battle like this. All they had was faith in Daenerys Targaryen, and ashes turned to joy as they saw her standing before them.

"I am here because of you. All of you have given your life to me, crossed the Narrow Sea and traveled into the winter, and you have done more than I could ever ask," she called loudly and Jon could see the toll it took on her. "I owe you my life, and I will continue to fight for you and for your brothers who have fallen in this foreign place today."

She took a moment to breathe, tightening her grip around Jon's hand. "It's time," she told him.

Jon closed his eyes, and called for Rhaegal. He rode the dragon out onto the battlefield, stopping above the pile of dead bodies. "Dracarys," he whispered and watched the dead go up in flames. He could smell the flesh burning all the way up in the air but the scent had become familiar to him over the years. He could have easily been one of them, sweltering away into the cold, but the Gods had different plans for him. He seemed to accept it now.

Dany spoke again once Jon returned to her side. "The war is not over and I ask you to continue to fight for the living until the dead can no longer move. If the day comes where I die, I need you to put your faith in another. I ask that you stand with Aegon Targaryen, for he is my husband and he is my King, and he will continue to fight for you the same way I have."

She looked at Jon, nodding to him in encouragement.

"Are you with us?" he yelled.

The air fell silent for a few moments. But she could make men follow her to the ends of the earth.

Soon, the Unsullied pounded their spears on the ground in unison, and the Dothraki let out a series of cries. They were not as many as they once were, but to see them all together, kneeling before the last Targaryens was truly a sight to behold.

* * *

"I think your men will require a little more convincing," Dany whispered to Jon as they stood outside the door to the great hall of Winterfell.

"It will be fine," he told her, or better said, he told himself.

The doors opened and gazes turned to the young couple that stood at the doorway. Without thinking, he wrapped his arm around her waist and took her weight in his, helping her walk to the head table. He could feel the judgment emanating from the eyes of the people in the room as they watched how he held her, but soon it wouldn't matter anymore.

"It is good to see you're alive and well, your Grace," the young Ned Umber spoke confidently. The Lord of Last Hearth may have been too little to take part in the battle, but he insisted on remaining at Winterfell the whole time, not leaving with the rest of the Northern children to the Eyrie.

"Thank you, Lord Umber," Dany smiled at the boy who pledged allegiance to her from the first day she came to Winterfell. "Where is Lady Karstark?"

"Lady Alys has been injured your Grace, she is resting," Lyanna Mormont was the one to speak now.

Dany turned to look at Jon and she could spot a sadness in his eyes. He had formulated the rule that any boy or girl should fight, from the ages ten onwards, and although necessary - it was not ideal. Lyanna, Ned and Alys… they were only children.

There was a new young face in the hall however, one that Jon did not recognize. He looked older than Lyanna and Ned, but his frame was small and his face sickly. The boy walked out from the crowds into the center of the hall.

"Seven hells," Sansa muttered only loud enough for Jon and Dany to hear.

As the boy came closer Jon could spot the sigil on his clothing, a falcon and a crescent moon. "Lord Arryn," he said.

The boy gulped hard before he spoke, obviously uncomfortable with the whole situation. "Lord Snow it is good to finally meet you, and Sansa it is nice to see you again."

Sansa rolled her eyes at the comment. "What brings you here Robin?"

"It's Lord Arryn, not Robin!" the boy exclaimed.

"And it's Lady Stark, not Sansa," she replied bitterly.

The boy's face turned red. "I wanted to join the fight, you know I have been training hard, but I came too late."

"Of course you did," Sansa muttered under her breath.

Robin continued to speak. "But when I arrived they told me Lord Royce had died in battle. So I am now representing the Vale."

"We are sorry to hear about Lord Royce, and thank you for coming Lord Arryn. You can sit back down now," Jon said.

Jon then stood up. "I thank you all for being here to meet with us after a day like this. You all fought hard and Winterfell still stands because of your efforts. However, our armies have been cut down to half. Hundreds of Northern bodies are being sent to their ancestral homes to be buried, and thousands of Essosi and Freefolk are being burned outside as we speak. But the war is not over, and the time has come for you to learn the truth."

"I am sorry Lord Snow but I am still finding it difficult to understand what happened today," Lord Glover stood up. "We were doing well on the battlefield, and all of a sudden you take off riding a dragon, only to come back hours later, once we had killed all the dead in our sight, telling us the war is not over."

"Aye!" a couple of voices shouted from the back.

"My Lord," Jon spoke calmly. "The dead that we fought today were nothing but a sample of the Night King's army. He distracted us with the battle, so that he could hide in the Wolfswood with the rest of the Others and march South."

"So the war is over," Lord Glover replied. "At least for the North, for we no longer face a threat. This Night King clearly doesn't want anything to do with us. Let him march South. Let him kill our enemies for us."

"Not everyone in the South is your enemy," Tyrion objected.

"Cersei Lannister is," Sansa was now the one to speak, looking to both Jon and Dany. "Perhaps he didn't put it in the best manner, but Lord Glover makes a fair point. You have to deal with Cersei in one way or another. I can't think of anyone better than the army of the dead to take on the Lannister soldiers and the Golden Company."

"I have to agree," Arya said. "Although I wanted to be the one to kill Cersei, I wouldn't mind seeing her turn into the Night King's slave. It would be ironic– funny even."

"No!" Jon looked at his sisters in disbelief. "We will warn Cersei of what is coming, and we will help her and all the living in the fight against the dead. They are the true enemy."

There was an outbreak of whispers and cries in the room, and chaos was about to unfold- until Dany finally spoke.

"As much as I would like it to see an end to Cersei, we cannot be certain that the Night King marches towards King's Landing. Even if he does, what about the innocent lives he will take on his way? What about the five hundred thousand people who live in King's Landing? Shall we stand by and watch them turn to five hundred thousand undead? I have fought for the North and will always fight for the North, but what kind of Queen would I be if I were to forget about the remaining six Kingdoms in Westeros?"

Her words silenced the room, and she took a moment to look around at the people to see their reactions to what she had said. The one face that stood out was that of Jaime Lannister, who seemed to be staring at her intensely, not expecting to have heard the words that came out of her mouth. He knew that if this was the other way round, Cersei wouldn't have thought twice about letting an army of Wights and Walkers march on her enemies. Whatever doubts he held about his decision to leave her, he carried them no more.

"The Queen is right," Lyanna Mormont said. "The North will never be safe as long as the Night King lives. He could march back up our gates with his new army and end us once and for all."

"As always the young Lady speaks the truth," Lord Manderley said. "But what do we do know? How will we find out where the army of the dead are headed?"

"You rule the North," Lord Glover looked to Sansa. "We will do as you ask."

"No, Lord Glover," Sansa stood up. "I may lead the North as its Wardeness and Lady of Winterfell, but the North answers to the King and Queen."

Sansa looked to Jon and Dany as the room fell silent, giving them both a nod of reassurance.

It seemed as though no one knew how to respond, or what Sansa meant when she uttered the words King and Queen, but all eyes were on the supposed culprits, still and awaiting a response.

"As I said, the time has come for you all to learn the truth about who I am, a truth that I have only recently discovered." Jon cleared his throat.

"Ned Stark was not my father."

"What are you talking about?" Lyanna Mormont couldn't help but interrupt.

"My real name is Aegon Targaryen, son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark. They wed after Rhaegar annulled his marriage to Elia Martell, and my mother died giving birth to me."

And chaos finally unleashed itself into the room.

But Jon expected nothing less. "I am still the man you once knew," he exclaimed. "Ned Stark still raised me as his son, he taught me everything I know and he did it the Northern way."

Lord Glover spoke again. "If what you're saying is true, you do realize you hold the stronger claim to the throne?"

"Of course it's true, how else could you explain him riding a dragon?" a voice from the back shouted.

"You don't have to be a Targaryen to ride a dragon!" another replied.

"Lord Glover, that doesn't matter," Jon interrupted. "Queen Daenerys is my wife, and if we live to see the end of this war, we will take what is ours and rule together as equals."

"Your wife, eh? I knew it!" Tormund spoke from the corner, a grin spreading across his face as his gaze shifted to Brienne who stood on the opposite side of the room. "Didn't I tell you Brienne? You should start believing the things I tell you, like how good we would be to-"

"That's enough Tormund," The Hound said.

Lord Manderley spoke next "In reality, if the North no longer sought its independence, the best scenario would be to have a Northern King sit on the Iron Throne. His name may be Aegon Targaryen but he will always be the White Wolf. The Dragon Queen has done nothing but show her support for the North as well. I only see this as good news."

"The North will not seek its independence," Sansa spoke firmly. "House Stark stands with House Targaryen."

But most of the people in the Great Hall still looked to each other in doubt and confusion.

"Have we forgotten who murdered Rickard and Brandon Stark?" someone exclaimed from the back.

"The Targaryens are mad!"

"Aye!" a couple of voices called in agreement.

"My Lords and Ladies," Dany reached an arm out and Jon immediately helped her stand up. "I appreciate that this is not the news you expected to hear, and we are not here to force anyone to bend the knee. All I ask is that you still think of this man as Jon Snow, a man made from the winds of winter. You chose him as your leader years ago simply because of the kind of person he is. He is good, and he is brave, and his duty lies with his people. Don't let our family name cloud your judgment. You chose him then, why not now?"

"She is speaking the truth," Lord Glover spoke after a few silent moments and all eyes turned to him. "That's right, I said it! For centuries, Westeros was at peace with a Stark as warden in the North and a Targaryen on the Iron Throne. We should look past the actions of the Mad King. His daughter and grandson are nothing like him."

Daenerys looked to Jon, shocked by the words that came out of the old man. She assumed him and Yohn Royce would have been her greatest opposers. Jon grabbed on to her hand, and the two of them looked forward.

"House Mormont will continue to support you both," Lyanna Mormont exclaimed, pulling her sword out of its sheath. "To King Aegon and Queen Daenerys!"

"To King Aegon and Queen Daenerys!" Lord Glover followed.

"To King Aegon and Queen Daenerys!"

Soon the entire room chanted the words, standing up with a new found motivation, swords high up in the air, and voices loud enough it felt like the great hall was shaking. The dragons and the wolves had reunited once again, fire meeting ice in a song that demanded the whole world listen to it.

* * *

"You did well today," Jon said, his voice heavy with exhaustion. He sat Dany down at the edge of the bed, bending to remove her shoes.

She brushed her fingers through his dark curls. "So did you."

"How are you feeling?" he said, running his hand from her thigh to her waist.

"Better," she whispered. "Your blood officially runs through my veins now."

He chuckled. "I don't know what I was thinking. Sam said it could kill you if I wasn't the right match. I am still shocked it worked."

"Of course it worked," she said, her eyes drifting off into the distance. " _Qoy qoyi_."

His brows furrowed. "You have yet to teach me Dothraki."

"It means blood of my blood." She smiled, her mind circling back to her Doreah and all the lessons she had with the young handmaid. It felt like another life.

A knock to the door interrupted the conversation.

"Come in," Dany said.

Missandei walked into the room, looking to Daenerys with red and swollen eyes.

"Jon, can you give us a moment?" Dany whispered in his ear.

He nodded and walked towards Missandei, stopping to rest a hand on her shoulder.

"I am sorry for your loss," he said quietly and left the room.

"Come next to me," Dany told the woman, her heart threatening to shatter into a million shards as she saw her closest friend in this state. She held on to her hand. "I am so sorry."

"So am I," Missandei's voice was low, barely above a whisper. "They should have found his body by now."

"I know."

"There was a moment today where I thought I had lost both of you," she said. "I wouldn't have been able to go on after that."

"That's not true," Dany told her. "You are one of the strongest people I know, Missandei."

"I have been through so much, your Grace. I was tortured and defiled, orphaned and chained. I was five when I watched my beautiful Naath burn, smoke rising from its white beaches to the sky. But this… this is a different kind of pain."

"What can I do to help?" Anything you want I will do."

"It's okay, your Grace."

"Do you want to go back to Essos? I can give you what you need to get a large house, servants, anything you want. Pentos is beautiful-"

"No, Daenerys. I will not go anywhere."

"Are you sure?"

"I could never leave your side. Grey Worm would want me to keep fighting, not to run away from the winter to drown myself in sorrow."

Dany wiped a tear off the woman's cheek. "All right then," she said. "We will honor his wishes and fight till the end. _Valar morghulis_."

Missandei sighed, remembering the first conversation she had with the Queen.

"But we are not men."

* * *

 **A/N: **wooooooo another long and eventful chapter. I hope you guys enjoyed it.

I went back and forth quite a lot while writing this, because obviously I didn't want to make it cheesy and have the Northerners be like yaaaaas Aegon from the very beginning, but I didn't want them to be completely against it either. Hopefully I was able to come up with an okay-ish balance. In the show they may have a harder time accepting it (or they may not, who knows?), but for the purposes of this story I didn't want the reveal to be such a huge source of conflict. There are bigger things to worry about lol.

Anyway, I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who has followed/favorited and left reviews. Your support keeps me going!

Stay tuned for the next chapter, its going to be wild.


	16. New Beginnings

Once again, Daenerys Targaryen found herself in the Isle, surrounded by the Weirwoods and the deep blue waters of the Godseye. Except it was different this time. The ground and the trees were uncovered, no longer concealed by a thick blanket of snow. The sky was clear and the rays of the sun were strong enough she could feel them tickle her skin. It had been a long time since she had seen this much color, a long time since she felt this warm.

She roamed across the land, bending and turning as she followed the patches of ground not inhabited by a Weirwood. For a moment, it felt like she was a child again, walking around to discover another strange Essosi city as fast as she could before Viserys would realize she was gone.

"Daenerys," she heard a familiar voice call from behind her.

She turned around only to see none other than Brandon Stark. But he wasn't sitting in his wheelchair with a blank expression and impassive eyes. He was different here; standing proud and tall, his presence powerful and gaze strong.

"Bran," she watched his legs as he walked towards her. "None of this is real… right?"

The boy reached his hand out to catch a red leaf that had fallen off one of the branches. He then held on to her arm, spreading out her hand so that he could place the leaf in her palm. She closed her hand and felt it break underneath her fingers.

"Does that feel real?" he took a step back.

She sighed, unsure of what to make of this place. "Why do my dreams bring me here?"

"You know this is where it all started. So this has to be where it will end. You need to come here with Jon."

Her brows furrowed. "I thought people never make it to the Isle. They say it's cursed."

"The Children decide who can or cannot enter. But their magic grows weak as the Night King grows strong. You must get here before he does."

"What does he want Bran?" her voice demanded he respond. She was starting to get frustrated with his cryptic way of speaking.

His gaze shifted to the face that was carved in the nearest trunk.

"He wants his life back."

"Bran…"

"I don't know everything Daenerys, not yet. But this is where I am at my strongest, where I can help you the most."

"Are you sure?" she looked him in the eyes. "We could have used your help when the Night King sent his army to Winterfell."

"I know," he said, his voice lower now. "I am sorry."

She remained silent.

"There is something else," he said. "Visit the crypts before you leave."

"What?"

"Find the wall closest to the hot springs. It should be the warmest spot there."

"Bran-"

He disappeared the moment he finished speaking, leaving her there with more questions than answers.

* * *

Dany's eyes flung open and she took a moment to catch her breath. She held on tighter to Jon's arm that was wrapped around her waist and winced at the burning pain of her wound as she turned around to look at him.

She brought her hand up to the side of his face, brushing her fingers gently across his cheek. Gods, she loved him- and envied him for his ability to sleep so easily.

"Jon," she whispered softly.

She watched as his eyelids twitched in response. Slowly he opened them to meet her gaze.

"Dany," he spoke with a thick voice. "Is everything all right?"

"Yes, my love."

He pulled her in closer, bringing his lips to her forehead.

"But I need you to take me to the crypts."

"What?" He pulled back to look her in the eyes.

"The crypts," she said. "I need to go."

"Okay… the crypts…" he closed his eyes. "We'll go in the morning."

"No," she argued, unable to wait for the proof that her dream was real. "We have to go now."

"Dany…" he mumbled against her skin.

"Fine," she tried to move herself into a sitting position. "I'll go with Ghost."

At the mention of his name, the direwolf that slept on their bed lifted his head, his ears perked and eyes attentive.

Upon realizing he had no choice in the matter, Jon rushed to the other side of the bed to help her stand up. She was wearing a thin night garment that was loose enough so that it didn't press on her wound. He looked over her shoulder and saw that the bandages were red with blood.

"These need to be changed," he said.

"It can wait."

"No," he reached out for the supplies Sam had left in the room, placing them on the edge of the bed. "Just relax. It won't take long."

Gently, he slid the top of her dress off her shoulders, the thin material falling to the ground. She didn't shy away from his gaze, still the loveliest woman he had ever seen. His hands cupped the underside of her breasts and she gasped at the shock of his hot skin against hers. She could feel her breasts grow heavy at his touch. "They have become fuller," his thumbs traced the pinkish crowns that were rosier and darker than before.

His hands ran slowly down her sides as he moved her to sit on the bed, lowering himself to his knees before her. Dany's lips parted and she released her breath with a sigh as his soft, warm lips pressed on her belly. The gentle swell reminded him of the way the moon waxed in the distance when he was high up on the wall and skies were clear. The moon was a goddess then, so enthralling and in the black night sky she seemed to be everything. "You are beautiful," he looked up to her. "Even more so with our child inside you."

She watched him, the king on his knees, the way he looked at her with liquid eyes and those butterfly kisses he placed on her belly. Dany buried her fingers in his thick hair, pulling him closer so she could kiss his lips, because no words could express how deeply she loved him. He had given her everything.

He then returned to the original task, and began removing the bandages from her skin, watching her face as she tried hard not to flinch when he brought the wet towel to clean the wound.

"Too warm?" he asked.

She raised her eyebrows.

"Right," he realized his mistake. "The Unburnt."

She let out a soft chuckle. "It just stings."

He started placing the new bandage on. "So, are you going to tell me about this sudden need to visit the crypts?"

"Maybe after I find what I am looking for," she said with a smile.

"And what are you looking for?"

She sighed, taking a moment before she replied.

"I don't know."

* * *

There was an almost ethereal hush in the crypts of Winterfell. Dany drew her cloak around her more tightly, each sound suddenly magnified until it was all she could hear- the rustle of fur, the swish and click of their boots on the stone floor, the sound of their breathing. Jon had told her that the cavernous vault was massive, larger than Winterfell itself, but it took actually being there for her to appreciate what he said.

They strolled silently through the rows and rows of dead kings, asleep eternally in their stone tombs. Some of their names Dany knew from the histories, but the majority was new to her. Their faces made her feel uncomfortable; like she was intruding on an exceptionally private moment. She had never been more aware of what she wasn't, how her hair and eyes set her apart, how her ancestors had conquered the skies while his ancestors had lived and died on a punitive and unforgiving continent, enduring like the wolves that wandered the woods at night and howled at the moon. The Starks had always endured.

And whose family was nearly extinct now?

Jon stopped further down, pointing to another tomb. This one looked newly carved; there were a few rock shavings still littering the marble floors. "My lord father-uncle. Arya's right; whoever carved him truly didn't know his face."

She spoke almost instantaneously. "You can still call him your father, Jon. At least with me."

He squeezed her hand and the two continued to walk passed the tombs until they found themselves back where they started, near the spiral stone steps.

"There is nothing on this floor. We should move down."

She let him carry her down the steps and then they made their way across the second level, which oddly felt warmer than the first, but not warm enough. She felt tired by the end of it, finding herself leaning against Jon as they walked for more support.

"We can stop," he said once they reached the stairs yet again. "Or I can continue down by myself."

"No," she reached out and he lifted her off the ground. "Let's do one more."

The third level was certainly warmer, but also darker and unkempt.

"We must be closer to the hot springs," Jon remarked.

They followed the increase in temperature- hands moving across the narrow stonewalls as they strode passed the tombs. A couple of hours must have passed since they first entered the crypts through its ironwood door, until finally, near the very end of the third level, they found what they were looking for.

Dany could have sworn she felt it in her heart that they needed to stop, that it wasn't just the warmth emanating from the wall that told her this was the spot. She could feel Jon slowing down as well… perhaps he knew it too.

It was darker here, and they had to use the torch in Jon's hand to search properly. And when he cast the light near the carved direwolf at the foot of the statue, a glimpse of color appeared. Dany immediately brought herself to her knees, and Jon followed.

"Jon," she gasped as she held his hand to bring the light closer. She could hear his breath catch in disbelief as they saw it.

A dark and deep indigo, yet alive with silver ripples and swirls. It was big, not as large as the three she once had, but big enough that she needed both her hands to hold it.

A dragon egg.

Her pulse quickened when she felt the heat radiating from it as she picked it up.

"Can you feel it Jon?"

He brought his hand to the egg and then looked to her, still in shock. "It feels warm."

She nodded her head, feeling tears accumulate in her eyes. "When others touched my dragon eggs, they only felt cold."

"It seems only dragons can sense each other."

She sighed. "How is this possible Jon? Are we not the first Targaryens to bring dragons to Winterfell?"

"I don't know. It has to be from before the civil war, or perhaps during the Dance."

Suddenly, Daenerys gasped, bringing her hand to her abdomen.

"What's wrong?" he quickly moved his free hand to cover hers.

"Nothing," she smiled in relief, shifting his hand so he could feel it too.

His eyes grew wide, completely captivated by the movement he sensed under his palm. "Dany…"

It was the first time she felt it. "Don't worry my sweet," she whispered softly to her child. "We haven't forgotten about you."

Jon looked to her, the fire burning in his eyes. "This will be our child's dragon," he said, speaking the words so confidently like they couldn't be anything other than the truth. "They will enter this world together."

* * *

"We have been looking everywhere for the two of you!" Tyrion said as he walked into the King and Queen's chambers.

"Here we go," Jon whispered as he handed a glass of wine to Daenerys. They had just sat down, and she was still telling him about her dream.

"What's the matter, Tyrion?" she asked after taking a considerable sip.

At that very moment Sansa and Arya had walked passed the door that was now open

"There they are!" Sansa exclaimed and the two of them joined the group.

"It is still really early in the morning, how long could you have been possibly looking for us?" Jon muttered. His mind was still in the crypts.

"Long enough," Arya said with a smile.

"We received a raven from Yara Greyjoy," Tyrion spoke.

Dany put the glass down. "She's alive?"

Tyrion continued. "It's not clear what exactly happened, she said Theon saved her." His gaze then shifted to the ground.

"What is it Tyrion?"

"Theon is dead," Sansa looked to Jon. "He died after killing Euron."

Jon let out a heavy sigh. He was the one who told Theon to go save his sister. He took a moment before speaking. "What does this mean then?"

"I can't say that I am not happy he managed to kill that grotesque man," Dany shuddered thinking about Euron Greyjoy. She remembered what he told her at the dragon pit. _When winter is over, we'll be the only ones left alive._ Little did he know.

"There is more, your Grace," Tyrion spoke quietly. "Yara found a sealed letter in Euron's ship, from Qyburn. Cersei is unwell. She told Euron to send the Golden Company back to Essos."

"What?" Dany stood up. "Why would she do that?"

"I am not sure," Tyrion said, avoiding her gaze as if he was lying. "I need to talk to Jaime."

"Wait," Jon interrupted. "If the letter was sealed it means he never got the message. It doesn't matter if Euron is dead, the Golden Company would have continued to sail to King's Landing."

"But she doesn't want them anymore," Sansa said. "You need to turn this to your advantage. Offer them the gold and take them as yours."

"The Golden Company has never broken a contract," Jon said. "Everyone knows that."

"There is no contract- not anymore!" Arya now spoke.

"We will not pay anyone to join our army," Dany spoke firmly. "That is not how I took the Unsullied. If the Golden Company wants to fight for us they will do it willingly; because they believe in our cause. Besides, the dead march South and none of this will matter when they see the true enemy."

She looked to Jon, and he nodded his head. "There is something you should know," he said. "Bran is in the Isle of Faces. That is where the Night King is headed."

Sansa and Arya stared at him, shocked and confused. "How do you know this?" Sansa finally spoke.

"Bran told me," Dany said and now all eyes were on her. "The same way he told me to go looking in the Crypts for this."

Jon walked to the bedside table to pull out the trunk where he had just placed the egg in. He brought the case closer to them and opened it for their eyes to see.

Arya was the first to react, walking closer to lay her hand on the egg. "You found this here? In our crypts?"

"Yes," Dany rested a hand on the girl's shoulder. "I don't know how or why Bran spoke to me, but he did. And I trust in what he says."

"You killed Littlefinger, right?" Tyrion looked to Arya.

"What does that have to do with anything?" she asked.

"Harrenhal was his," Tyrion explained. "It's the closest castle to the Isle, right on the Northern shore of the Godseye. It belongs to House Stark now. We can set up camp there."

"What about Cersei?" Jon asked.

"We sent a raven to her as you requested, informing her that the walkers are headed South. We expect to hear a reply," Sansa said.

"Harrenhal is very close to King's Landing. Perhaps I or Jaime could go speak to her, find out what's going on." Tyrion now looked to Dany, who didn't seem pleased with the suggestion. "She didn't murder me the last time we spoke, and she didn't murder Jaime when he walked out on her. I don't think she is capable of killing her own brothers."

"We don't know what Cersei is capable of," Sansa muttered.

Dany sighed. "Ser Jaime can go, if that's what he wants. I won't gamble with your life, not when there is another option."

"Is that it then?" Arya looked to her brother and his wife. "Are we leaving Winterfell?"

"It seems so," Dany replied _. Just when it started feeling a little like home._

"Starks do not fare well whenever they ride South," Tyrion mused.

"I've been all over the world," Arya said, a grin spreading across her face. "I would say I turned out just fine."

* * *

 **A/N:** Ahhhhh, we are nearing the end my friends. I can't believe it.

Book readers may now about the the eggs in the crypts but for those of you who haven't heard of _The Testimony of Mushroom_ don't worry, I'll explain it in future chapters.

I really hope you enjoyed this chapter, and thank you for all the support this story has received so far. As you can see, crazy stuff is about to go down so stay tuned for more :)


	17. The Mad Queen

**A/N:** Hello all. Just wanted to thank everyone for the positive responses on the previous chapter, your support means a lot. I really hope you enjoy this one and stick around for the next, we're almost at the end!

* * *

Daenerys tried to think back and remember what Viserys had told her about the Riverlands. She realized most of her knowledge about Westeros had come from him and the stories he used to tell her, stories that were truthfully quite biased and one-sided to say the least. Even as a child she was able to pick out the lies her brother fed her. In the years where Tyrion was her closest companion in Mereen she would spend hours asking him about the Seven Kingdoms, and no matter what he would tell her, Viserys' voice was always at the back of her mind. _No that's not what happened, dear sister. That's what they want you to think._ It was difficult, but with time his voice grew quiet, with time she would forget he ever existed.

After several long days of hard riding they had decided to set camp for a night once they entered the Riverlands. A region meant to be rich, fertile and populous, fed by the three forks of the Trident and the northern Blackwater rush, was now blanketed by snow, the rivers frozen and hit hard by the winds of winter. They travelled along the Kingsroad and would cross the Trident at the Ruby Ford. Of course, Daenerys knew all about the crossing where Rhaegar was killed at the hands of Robert Baratheon. Beaten by a deathblow so forceful, the rubies that ornamented his breastplate were shattered off and scattered in the river.

It was a story everyone knew, one that Viserys couldn't lie to her about. She had even seen a vision of it in the House of the Undying, she watched her brother sink to his knees in the water, and with his last breath he murmured a woman's name.

 _Lyanna._

He loved her and thousands died for it.

But it was that very love, the union between the dragon and the wolf, which brought Jon into the world. For he was the prince that was promised, and his was the song of ice and fire. He would go on to save thousands of lives and more. Perhaps, he would be the one to save the entire world.

Daenerys stood out in the cold, which now felt more comfortable than the carriage she was stuck in for days on end. It took some time but Drogon's wounds had healed, and he was able to fly again. She watched him and Rhaegal as they circled in the air, flying along the borders of the camp protectively. Dany was feeling better as well, and made it a point for Sam to check on her everyday. She needed to know that her little dragon was growing strong. _Near four moon turns and the small one will come_ , he sounded so sure when he told her. She wouldn't let herself be that hopeful.

"Are you not cold?" Jon's voice interrupted her thoughts.

She turned around to look at him, her lips curling into a sad smile. "No, the fresh air feels good."

"It seems we've spent too much time in Winterfell. You're starting to get used to the snow," he placed a hand on the small of her back.

"Do you think we'll ever go back?"

He sighed, pulling her closer. "I don't know."

After a few silent moments she spoke again. "This may be an odd question…"

He looked down so he would face her. "What is it?"

She held his gaze, her eyes serious. "Can you sing?"

He pulled back and couldn't help it, starting to chuckle. "What?" he spoke in between laughter. "Can I sing?"

"Jon!" she nudged his shoulder, but he didn't stop. Eventually she gave in, joining him with a soft giggle here and there. "I mean it, answer the question."

"No," he eventually replied, now recovered from the fit. "Why would you think-"

"Rhaeger used to sing," she said, drifting off in remembrance. "Ser Barristan told me the two of them would go down from the Red Keep to the streets of King's Landing. He would pick a spot on the Hook or the Street of Seeds and he'd sing."

"To who?" Jon asked, his eyes wide.

"To the people. To whoever would listen. He was good at it, apparently."

"Well, I am not," he smiled as he spoke. "He seems like quite the man."

"You are like him in other ways."

"How?"

"He never enjoyed killing people, despite being good at it. You said the same thing to me the first day we met."

"Aye," he kissed the side of her forehead. "I did."

"Your Graces," Jaime Lannister approached, with Tyrion and Brienne at his side. "May I have a word?"

The two turned around to face them. "Go ahead, Ser Jaime," Jon said.

He looked up nervously at them,."I just wanted to inform you that I will be heading off to King's Landing tonight."

"Tonight?" Dany questioned. "We have had a long journey, do you not wish to rest?"

"The sooner I get answers, the sooner I can come back to help you at Harrenhal," he said.

"And we haven't received any word from Cersei?" Jon asked.

"No," Jaime replied. "It's best to speak to her in person, but she may be more dangerous now, so I ask-"

"Your Graces, I ask your permission to accompany Ser Jaime," Brienne interrupted. "And for three other men to join us for protection."

Jon raised his brows, now looking to Tyrion. "Why? I thought you said Cersei wasn't capable of killing Jaime."

"She is pregnant," Jaime said abruptly. "In the letter from Qyburn he said she was unwell, and I am afraid something may have happened. If so, we are doomed."

"Wait," Dany now glared at Tyrion. "Did you know about this?"

"Well-" he muttered.

"Tyrion," she demanded a response.

He looked up at her, the regret clear in his voice. "I should have told you, I am sorry-"

"How long have you known?" Jon now spoke on Dany's behalf, seeing how upset she was.

"The day we went to the dragon pit."

"Why?" she said. "Why didn't you say anything?"

Tyrion's gaze shifted to the ground. "She blames me for the death of Tommen and Myrcella."

Jaime looked to his brother, eyes wide. "You had nothing to do with that."

"Not directly no. But maybe she's right. Maybe if father was still alive they would be too."

"No, brother," Jaime interjected. "She's not right."

"I just didn't want any harm to come to this one."

"Tyrion," Dany tried to speak calmly. "How could you ever think that I would purposely bring harm to an innocent child?"

"I didn't-"

"Ser Jaime and Lady Brienne you may go," she looked to Jon, who nodded his head in reassurance. "You may have three of the Unsullied."

Tyrion met her gaze. "Thank you, Daenerys."

She sighed, taking Jon's hand in hers and walking away.

* * *

"You won't be angry with him forever," Jon said, taking his cloak off as they entered their tent later that day. It was small and dimly lit, but large enough to hold the mountains of furs that formed a makeshift bed at its center.

Dany made her way to the chest where they kept the dragon egg surrounded by burning candles, she placed her hand on the dark indigo, relishing in its warmth.

"Of course not," she replied. "I understand why he did what he did."

Jon came up from behind her, unclasping the pin that held her cloak together, gently removing it from her body.

"I had just burned Randyll and Dickon Tarly alive," she continued, leaning into his embrace. "I wasn't listening to his advice."

"It is in the past now," he whispered, moving her hair to one side so he could kiss her neck. Dany clasped her hand on the table in front of her, steadying herself as he continued to bring his soft lips against her skin, nibbling on the lobe of her ear.

Feeling the longing build up in the pits of her stomach, she turned around to meet his eyes, her hand grasping the side of his face. "Come inside me tonight, your Grace. Let us not miss another night together."

He held on to her arm. There's a question in his eyes, almost a fear, "are you sure its okay?" he spoke gently. They had not made love since before the battle, before she was injured.

She shook her head, closing the gap between them in one swift step and moving her lips to meet his. He tasted sweet, familiar. "Take me," she whispered, her breath warm against his skin. For this fleeting instance at least they would lay down their burdens and not be saviors, allow for a small selfish moment to remember they were man and woman still.

He kissed her back with a renewed vigor, bringing a hand to her waist while the other went around her neck, beginning to undo the ties and the buttons at the back of her dress. His gaze never left her own as the thick fabric slowly slid off her shoulders. A cold wind blew in from outside, her nipples puckering and the candles guttering in response.

Desire sat in his eyes like two low-seated embers; she could see them reflected in her own, like a fire. Her hands made fast work of his tunic, and she helped pull it loose, moving to burn a wet trail of kisses from his chest, to his neck, to his jaw. She would spend no time thinking this night may be their last, she had come to accept it long ago, learned to appreciate every moment as it came.

Jon then led her to the bed, laying her down gently so the weight wasn't too heavy on her wound. She sighed in pleasure at his warm body against hers as he hovered over her. He kissed her eyelids, and her neck, and then she caught her breath, because his lips were on her breasts, hungrily, desperately. She threw her head back against the pillow and dug her fingers in his hair, a soft sigh escaping her lips at feeling of his scalding hot tongue laving at her crowns.

"Jon," she whispered breathlessly, moving her legs so she could cradle him between them. She reached underneath her and pushed down at his breeches so she could free him. His hand joined hers as he guided himself and Dany gasped when he entered her channel in one long, smooth movement.

And then he was pumping inside her, his hands covering her breasts, his thumbs working her sensitive nipples, and she moaned louder, the sensation coming at her on all fronts. He relished in the wetness of her, in the way her breath comes thick and fast until it felt like they've melded together, and there might have been a war outside but neither of them would know.

"I love you," his hushed voice was still hot against her ear when she peaked. She wrapped her arms around him, placing a kiss on his shoulder.

Finally he raised his body off of hers. Immediately feeling the cold and the loss, Dany rolled and buried herself into his side as he pulled her to him. Suddenly, they could hear the voices of the people outside, a harsh reminder that they weren't the only two people in the world.

He kisses her again just before he falls into sleep, trying to convince himself that this won't be the last time. Somehow, they'd get through this. And after that…they'd take it one day at a time.

* * *

Jaime Lannister entered the gates of the Red Keep expecting a fight, if not a fight then at least a little bit of resistance. Instead, when he showed his face to the Lannister guards at the gate they agreed to escort him to the Queen with no hesitation.

"Her grace has been expecting you," one of them said after a squire came running down to meet them as they walked. "She will meet you in the throne room."

Brienne gave him an odd look but they kept going with the three unsullied behind them. He didn't ask her to come with him, afraid of what kind of situation they'd walk into, but she insisted the moment she found out. He reminded her of her oath to protect the Stark girls although he knew she had fulfilled it; they didn't need her anymore. It was painfully obvious what the years of carrying such a heavy burden on her shoulders had done to her when she uttered the words 'fuck loyalty' to him at the dragon pit. It was ironic, seeing her there with the Valyrian Oathbreaker he had given her tucked at her side, hearing her say the words that were completely against her nature and everything she made herself out to be. She had changed over the years, but so had he.

When they reached the main entrance of the castle, Jaime wasn't surprised that it was Bronn who was there to greet them.

"Never thought I'd see you again," he said, his eyes tired. "Fighting alongside the cockless I see."

"You should have come with me," Jaime told him.

"Aye," he looked to the ground. "Maybe I should have."

Jaime's eyes narrowed. "What has been going on Bronn?"

"It's not my business to tell you my friend," he placed his hand on his shoulder. "You should speak to the Queen yourself."

Bronn opened the door to the great hall, nodding to him in reassurance before leaving. Slowly Jaime walked in with the group behind him. The hall was dark, a few candles flickered away in the distance giving light to the throne where Cersei sat. Qyburn was on her right and the Mountain on her left, and she was holding a wrapped up blanket in her arms. He had to blink twice to make sure that what he was seeing was in fact real, and then he immediately rushed over to her, to his child, forgetting that anyone else existed in the room.

The Mountain quickly stepped in front of Cersei, blocking him from seeing her.

"That's all right Ser Gregor," her voice was quiet. "You may leave now. You too Qyburn."

"Your Grace-" her Hand appealed.

"You will leave and do what I asked of you," she spoke harshly, and with hesitation Qyburn nodded his head. "Let me speak to my brother."

Once they left the room, Jaime moved closer to her. "Cersei," he reached out for the child.

She held his arm, looking to him with tired eyes and a pale face.

"Oh, you don't want to see him," she spoke monotonously, pulling the fabric tighter towards her. "He is dead."

Her words forced him to take a step back, his heart sinking to his knees as he stared at her, unable to think or speak.

"It's funny," she continued. "The Gods do like to play their little games don't they? You know I used to lie to people, tell them Tyrion had claws and a red eye and a head two times the size of his body. It's funny that the Gods would give me a son like that. And yet I keep him here, in my arms. He didn't kill me like Tyrion killed our mother."

"Cersei, you are not well-" he said, his voice trembling.

"You left me," she interrupted.

"Cersei-"

"You left me, and now you come back, with her," she glared at Brienne and Jaime turned around to see the horrified look on her face. "With the dragon bitch's men. How dare you-"

"I am-"

"How dare you?!" she interjected, her pitch loud and angry, sweat trickling down her face. "This throne belonged to us, the world belonged to us."

"There is no us," he told her. "You are not yourself."

"No," she chuckled. "I am not. I am done fighting. I should have been done long ago, should have listened to that witch who told me I would only have three."

His eyes grew wide as he tried to take in what she was saying. "Is that it then?" he questioned. "You'd give up the throne?"

She laughed again, the sound of it so uncomfortable it sent a shock down his spine.

"And give it to another Targaryen? Have you forgotten who it was who ended their rule?"

"But you turned away the Golden Company," he said.

"Kingslayer," she whispered, eyes turning red as she spoke. "You know I have developed some admiration towards the Mad King over the years. He was clever. He understood the importance of a strong family name. So much that he was prepared to destroy the entire world before seeing anyone else take the throne that belonged to him and his ancestors."

"Cersei, I think you need to rest-"

"Don't worry, little brother," she reached out to grab his hand. "We will all rest soon."

Jaime felt Brienne's hand on his shoulder, turning him around so he could face her. "I think we should leave," she spoke with a hushed voice, the concern in her eyes reflected in his own.

"She loves you," Cersei said, now looking directly at the woman. "You know that, don't you?"

"Come on," Brienne held his hand, ignoring what she said. "We have to go."

His gaze shifted between the two women, not knowing what to say.

"Do you love her too?"

Brienne tugged at his sleeve, "Jaime, let's go."

"There is nowhere to hide," Cersei whispered.

He released himself from Brienne's grasp, walking up to Cersei and forcefully grabbing her neck with his hand. He could not rid his mind of Olenna Tyrell's voice, ringing in his ears.

 _You poor fool. She'll be the end of you._

"What have you done?" he glared at her. "End it. End it now."

"It's too late," she choked as she tried to speak against the solid clasp of his hand around her cords. "If we can't have it, no one can."

He clenched his hand tighter, all the anger and regret he held for all these years releasing into a single force as he drew the life out of her.

Brienne grabbed his arm but Cersei had already lost consciousness. She drew him towards her so strongly that the two of them tripped over the steps to the throne, falling to the ground together.

"Get up!" she pleaded. "We're leaving."

Jaime had tears in his eyes when he pulled her back down, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, Brienne." At least he would die in the arms of the woman he loved. He always hoped he would go that way.

He held on to her face as he took his final breath, watching the reflection of the green fire in her eyes when it engulfed the room.


	18. Goodbye Brother

Jon woke up from the sound of ice crackling under heavy boots echoing through the drapes of the tent. The outburst of sound was sudden and uncomfortable, sending his heart was racing and forcing him to strain his ears in an effort to determine hazard from mundane, but he heard no shouting or earth shattering roars from any dragons, so he could assume that all was well. He had kept is eyes closed, hoping to go back to sleep, but was forced to open them upon feeling a gist of warm air at his neck. His gaze met that of his direwolf Ghost, who stared back at him with a pair of red and serious eyes. He must have felt Jon stirring in his sleep.

"You're a good boy," Jon whispered, lips curling into a smile as he thanked this great creature who had been at his side from the very beginning.

Ghost moved to snuggle his nose against Jon's shoulder before returning to the corner of the tent where he had originally been sleeping.

Dany's warm body then shifted beside him, silver strands of silk sliding over his chest and stomach raising goose bumps along his skin despite the sticky heat between them. The furs had been pushed off to the side and they lay bare in each other's arms, but he wasn't cold. He could never be with her at his side. _Qoy qoyi._ She turned over, eyes still closed as she settled on her back with a quiet, contented sigh, her hand resting on the soft swell of her belly.

Her breathed in deeply as he took her in, her beauty always striking him as hard as it had the first time he saw her, memories of last night; their passion, her sweet cries, the peace he felt- are all too much to ignore. Although she was lovely in her Queen's gowns with her hair up in intricate braids, there would always be something about seeing her like this; stunning and ethereal platinum locks let loose over the shoulders she didn't have to strain and pull back to maintain good posture. He loved her as the Dragon Queen but he cherished her even more when they were nothing but man and woman, husband and wife, when she would let him see her for who she truly was, not afraid of being vulnerable and letting go.

He placed his hand beside hers, their fingers brushing as they felt their child kick against their palms.

"The little dragon won't let me sleep," her eyes opened to greet his, the warmth in her gaze enough to send shocks down his spine.

"She is strong," he moved to lean on top of her, his voice thick with pride. "She wants you to know that."

"You seem certain it's a girl," she brushed her fingers through the dark raven curls that ran along the bottom of his neck.

"It's a feeling," he slid down her body, slowly burning a trail of wet kisses from the pulse point in her neck down to her stomach. "She will be beautiful, and fierce like her mother."

Dany pulled him back up to face her, capturing his lips with her own, unable to get enough of him. _Jon Snow._ He was her home- she had come to realize. The last years of her life had been a journey to find in Westeros what she had in that little Braavosi house with the red door and the lemon tree. She thought she would find it in Dragonstone, yearning to feel the homecoming as she buried her fingers in the sands of the castle's shore. Even when she first step foot in King's Landing, standing amongst the ruins of the dragon pit her ancestors built, she had expected to feel something. But she didn't. That feeling only came with Jon.

"What have I done to deserve you?" she spoke against his lips.

He looked to her with wide eyes, brows slanted upward in the middle as he shook his head. "I cannot answer questions like that. I am no poet," he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. "Let me show you, my Queen."

He moved down, careful to keep his weight off her body, and started to plant kisses along her inner thighs. He teased her with his fingers first, ghosting them over folds then lightly through to the little bundle of nerves he knew all too well. It doesn't take much before she breaths deep, a languid stretch running through her body, her hips rising under his grasp, thighs spreading so he could make his move.

The moment his tongue slid between her lips, they heard a cry from outside the tent.

"Daenerys!" a familiar voice called out. It was alarming, to hear her name being called without any of her titles. They knew it had to be bad.

Jon lifted his head to face her, the concern in his eyes reflected in her own. "Seven hells," he muttered, kissing her cheek before he stood up to put on his breeches. He grabbed her cloak and wrapped it around her body.

"Come in, Tyrion," she eventually said, standing up from the bed.

Jon could hear Dany's breath catch as she watched her hand walked in to the tent with a pale face and reddened eyes. She immediately moved towards him.

A fleeting voice in her head reminded her that the last time they spoke they had been in disagreement, that he had been lying to her, but now it didn't seem to matter. "What is it?" she spoke softly, her hand resting on his shoulder.

He hawked before he could reply, clearly struggling to find the words. "Cersei," he cleared his throat. "The Red Keep-."

"Sit down," she grasped his hand, looking to Jon and then to the wine tray. Her husband followed her thoughts, pouring a glass to give to Tyrion.

Tyrion drank the whole thing before speaking again, blinking hard in an attempt to stifle his tears. "She blew up the Red Keep with wildfire."

Jon and Dany could do nothing but stare at him.

"She destroyed the Great Hall with herself and my brother in it. They're all dead. Cersei. Jaime. Brienne. Every single person in that castle. Well, the latter may be an exaggeration… Bronn lived to come tell us. How is it that he always makes it out alive, that damned fu-"

"Tyrion slow down," Jon said.

Dany gulped, still unable to voice what she was thinking.

Jon poured another glass for him, not knowing what else to do. "Why would she do this?"

"Her son was deformed- stillborn apparently," Tyrion muttered in between sips. "I know how her mind works. Either a Lannister sits on the throne or no one does."

Jon watched as Dany's face changed, knowing what she would have been thinking about.

 _Monstrous. Twisted. He was scaled like a lizard, blind, with_ _the stub of a tail and small leather wings like the wings of a bat. He had been dead for years._

 _The stallion who mounts the world._

"I should have seen this coming. What was I thinking? That Brienne and three Unsullied would be enough to protect him?"

"Tyrion," Dany finally spoke, her tone serious as she looked into his eyes. "None of us could have known."

"For years I have waited for the day where the throne would be yours," his voice lowered. "I never thought it would happen like this."

"And what is left of the throne now?"

Dany didn't need to imagine what the Great Hall would look like now that it was in ruins. She realizes she had seen it before, one of the many things the warlocks of Qarth had shown her in their palace of dust. She walked across the large room with the fragments of its blown ceiling falling onto her from above. She had almost touched the throne covered in rubbles.

 _Let him be the king of charred bones and cooked meat. Let him be the king of ashes._

"She is right," Jon placed his hand on the small of her back. "We cannot forget why we left the North. We have to make it to the Isle as soon as we can."

"I know," Tyrion nodded his head.

"I am sorry about your brother," Dany said. "Truly, I am."

All three of them had lost brothers, mothers and fathers. Stark, Lannister, Baratheon, Targaryen, Martell, Tyrell… the great houses of Westeros were dying out one by one. And now the Red Keep was gone, torn away to pieces.

 _It shouldn't matter,_ Dany tried to tell herself. She wanted to break the wheel after all. She wanted to fight so that all houses would be great, so that there wouldn't be such a vast gap separating the rich from the poor. But if she was only fighting for the common people, then why do it in Westeros. She could have stayed in Mereen, she could have worked harder to ensure that no child born into Slaver's bay would ever know what it meant to be bought or sold. Perhaps for the first time, Dany considered that Tyrion may have been right that day when he told her that Essos could be where she truly belonged, where she could do the most good.

If that's what really mattered at the end of the day- doing the most good… benefiting the greatest number of people. What would keep her here after the Great War?

 _You'll be ruling over a graveyard._

* * *

"I can't believe she's gone," Sansa mumbled, perhaps the tenth time she uttered the same words. She didn't look up, her gaze fixated on the knitting needles she held in her hand. She had been trying to work on this blanket while on the journey to Harrenhal, but she wasn't able to dedicate as much time and effort to it as she would have liked. But when Jon and Dany came into her carriage to tell her and Arya the news of what happened in King's landing, she unconsciously grabbed the soft cream colored fabric into her hands, continuing the work on the intricate patterns she had imagined in her head while they spoke. Idyllically, she would have wanted to keep the gift hidden until her nephew or niece's nameday, but she knew that moving her fingers along the threads would help keep a clear mind.

"She tends to knit when she is upset," Arya explained to Dany who seem transfixed and slightly confused by the focus and determination in Sansa's eyes.

"Don't act like you're not upset Arya," Sansa finally looked up to glare at her sister. "Brienne dedicated years of her life to protecting us."

"You have your needles, sister, and I have mine," Arya held on to the sword at her waist. "I will take out my anger on the Night King."

Dany smiled at the little exchange between the Stark girls, thankful that they had arrived at the point where they could speak so easily around her.

"Do you think you would have been able to beat her in a fight?" Jon looked to Arya.

"Maybe," she supposed. "We sparred once but it ended with a stalemate- a blade at each of our throats."

"It was horrific," Sansa muttered.

Arya rolled her eyes. "She was good. Better than most."

"Aye," Jon remembered watching her on the battlefield. She was deadly. "So much has been already been lost and the war is not over yet."

"We will make it through. The pack survives, Jon" Arya spoke the words with confidence, turning to look at Dany. "That includes you too."

"Me?" Dany raised her brows. "I am no wolf."

"Perhaps not by definition, no," Sansa now replied. "But Jon is, and his blood runs through your veins, you're carrying his child… It is simple really. You are one of us now."

It _is_ simple, Dany eventually realized, looking to the blanket in Sansa's hands. A three-headed dragon stitched in red, connected to a direwolf stitched in grey. Was there anything more powerful than a dragon and wolf united?

Suddenly they came to an abrupt halt, and soon after the sounds of Drogon and Rhaegal's roars filled the air, mixed with the unsettling screams of men. Immediately they stepped out of the carriage, hurrying to the front to where the tumult seemed to be coming from.

At first Dany's eyes could only take in Harrenhal and all that it was from a distance. She had known it was the largest castle in Westeros but seeing it firsthand- it seemed colossal, not at all what she had expected. The curtain wall surrounding it was gigantic but still its five towers managed to peak from above it, the dark stone in ruins. Only dragon fire could melt stone like that. Balerion the Black Dread, Meraxes and Vhagar… easily the most infamous dragons in the history of their world. When her own three hatched from their eggs Dany had hoped to see them grow just as large and as fierce, hoped that one day they would help her conquer the West just as Aegon and his sisters did. But was this the price? Would this have been the fate of the great cities and castles of Westeros if she had decided to take the country the same way her ancestors had?

A breeze of cold wind seeped through her cloak to rest uncomfortably in her bones, bringing her mind back to the present. Her gaze shifted away from the castle, its ends only visible in the corner of her eyes, but still she could see.

Subconsciously she reached an arm out to grab Jon's hand, but he took hold of her own before she could find his.

They didn't know whether or not they would find them there when they arrived so they had tried to plan for either scenario whilst on the journey. It was true that the dead were notoriously slow in the way they moved but they did leave Winterfell long before they had, and in truth they were capable of moving quickly- Jon had seen it many times when he faced them. From this distance, they were hard to spot amidst the snow that left a thick blanket around the castle's walls, but their numbers were so large that even from afar they could not be missed. The castle itself appeared to be empty, but they had expected it to be considering the Night King was only concerned with the Isle itself.

"Before we do anything I want to ride Rhaegal and assess the situation for myself," Jon told her. "We need to know what we're dealing with."

Rhaegal had already landed beside them before she had the chance to object. She closed her eyes in a desperate attempt to call Drogon so that she could join them, but it came to no avail.

"What is he doing?" Arya demanded as she watched her brother take off into the sky.

Dany sighed. "Assessing the situation," she repeated his words, watching as Drogon took off beside them.

"He has certainly come a long way with Rhaegal, don't you think?" Sansa said.

"Yes," she mused, not keeping her gaze off the sky. "I named him after his father, after all."

Gendry then joined where the women stood, an unusual grin spread across his face. "Does this bring back a lot of memories for you, Arya?"

The young wolf rolled her eyes. "Now is certainly not the time to reminisce about the past."

"You've been here before?" Dany looked to the two curiously.

"Yes, your Grace," Gendry replied. "This place reeks just as much as it did the last time. You'd think the snow would cover up the stench."

"What is that smell anyway?" Sansa asked.

Arya and Gendry responded simultaneously,

"Dead people."

* * *

Jon took to Rhaegal's back and flew as high as he could, trying to get the best view of the Gods Eye. The dead surrounded the now frozen lake, and he watched as they slowly encroached towards the Isle at its center, almost one by one, treading carefully from all sides. The ice would break if all of them were to walk on it at once, and the Isle itself wasn't even slightly large enough to hold them all. Jon realized it was an almost identical picture to when he had gone on the Wight hunt North of the Wall many moons ago, only this was on a much larger scale, and perhaps this time it felt like they had a chance.

He continued to fly around the immense body of solid water as he endeavored to spot the Night King or Viserion. It would be too dangerous to hover closer above the Isle, so he remained cautious, trying to stay hidden within the clouds. As if understanding the situation, Rhaegal and Drogon remained remarkably quiet as they glided through the mists and shadows in the dark sky. _The bond between a dragon and its rider goes beyond words,_ Dany had told him once. _It's a feeling._

And then there was an outburst of color at the heart of the Isle, accompanied by the roar of a dragon. _No, not a dragon,_ Jon reminded himself. Yet again Dany's voice echoed in his mind, _zaldrīzes buzdari iksos daor._ Although he had seen it before, the unsettling sight of the blue flames sent a shiver through his body.

Quickly he made his way back to the front of the castle where they waited for him, landing at the same where he left. Immediately he could see the relief wash over Dany's face, and he couldn't help but give her a small yet sad smile in response.

"It's all right," he told her. _No, it's not._

Her brows furrowed. "What did you see, Jon?"

They had all surrounded him, looking to him with restless faces- the representatives from all the armies that fought for them, his friends and his family... He took a deep breath before he began.

"The Night King is at the Isle while the army of the dead encircle the shores of the Godseye from all sides. They are trying to get to it but the ice won't hold them all."

"We need to break the ice," Sam spoke after a few moments. Now all eyes were on him. "Our armies can come up against the dead from behind, they will have nowhere to go. You said it yourself, they can't swim."

"So you're saying the King and Queen will ride to face the Night King at the Isle alone?" Tyrion questioned. "What if something happens to them, or the dragons, how can we help if the ice is melted?"

"Lord Tyrion is right," Sansa spoke. "There needs to be a path connecting the Isle to the castle, at the very least."

"The Northern shore will remain untouched then," Sam said, now looking to Dany and Jon. "What do you think?"

"I think the sooner we get to the Isle and end the Night King the sooner all this will be over," Dany said. "Hopefully our armies won't be fighting for too long."

"I am coming with you to the Isle," Arya insisted.

Jon looked to her with wide eyes, about to protest, but she interrupted him. "I want to see Bran."

"I'll come as well," Gendry said immediately.

"I will fight by your side till the very end, Khaleesi," Jorah now spoke.

"Aye," Tormund joined in. "I want to be there to see that night fucker King die."

"Your Graces, allow me to come with you. This has been my lifelong mission," Berric said.

"I will join," The Hound muttered. "I am done fighting brainless dead men, if the Walkers are at the Isle I'd rather deal with them."

"The group has reunited," Gendry smirked as they all looked to him, most rolling their eyes in response to the comment.

"I don't see why you take pride in that," Tyrion mumbled. "Considering how successful you all were in your last mission."

"We don't know what we're going to find at the Isle," Jon objected. "You do realize this?"

"You said the Night King was there," Arya looked to him. "Right?"

Jon sighed, nodding his head. "I saw the blue flames of his undead dragon."

"That's all that matters," Berric spoke. "Once he falls, the dead fall with him."

"They should go with you, your Graces," Davos said. "If you two are up there in the sky trying to fight off his dragon who will be there to stop any Walkers on the ground from throwing another one of their ice spears at you?"

Dany met Jon's gaze before speaking, and he gave her a supportive look, coming to a decision just with their eyes.

"All right," she clasped her hands across her waist. "Let's end this once and for all."

* * *

 **A/N:** Hellooooo everyone!  
 _(long time no see, I know, but forgive me - I'm in med school and it's hard to balance all this stuff)_

First of all, I want to thank you for your responses to the previous chapter. I certainly enjoyed reading your reactions to Mad Cersei... #RIP

Hopefully this chapter was okay and has you hyped for the next one. This entire story so far has been leading up to the next chapter, so hang in there and be sure to stay tuned. I have already written the epilogue and there's no turning back now lol. I don't know what I am going to do with my life once all this is over !?


	19. The Prince That Was Promised

**A/N:** Why hello lovely readers. I am back from the dead, and I bring to you this monster of a chapter. I must warn you that by the end of this you may be left with a ton of questions in your mind, but know that it was deliberate on my part, and this is not the end yet. I have a few more chapters under my sleeve and you will get the answers you need.

Okay, that's enough rambling.

Enjoy!

* * *

"Aegon and Daenerys. I am honored to finally meet you."

Jon stared back at the man who was standing beside his brother. His eyes were kind, face slightly wrinkled with age. He wore a simple cloak, no visible sigil pinned to it or any other indicator as to who he was. It seemed as though Bran had developed some form of a relationship with the man, as the two of them seemed to be speaking to each other with their eyes when they saw Jon and Daenerys arrive.

Flying above the Isle just a few moments ago, their initial instinct was to go towards the blue flames in the distance, but seeing two figures emerge from in between the trees just beneath them, they had to stop.

"Jon, this is Howland Reed," Bran explained.

 _House Reed._ Jon tried to recall what he knew. _The Southern most house in the North. Sworn to House Stark. Howland Reed; Lord of Greywater Watch. Saved Eddard Stark's life during Robert's Rebellion._

"I was there the day you were born," the man now looked him in the eyes.

Immediately Jon felt his pulse quicken, the vessel in his neck throbbing underneath his skin.

"Do you know what happened that day?" he continued. "At the Tower of Joy?"

Jon shook his head and Dany moved closer to him, her fingers brushing his before he grabbed on to them. He needed to hold onto her.

"The strongest fighter in King Aerys's Kingsguard. Who was he?"

"Ser Arthur Dayne," Dany replied. _The Sword of the Morning!_ Viserys used to talk about his wondrous white blade. He said Ser Arthur was the only knight in the realm who was their brother's peer.

"Aye," Howland replied. "And where was he when Robert Baratheon crushed his warhammer into Rhaegar's chest at the Trident?"

Dany's eyes narrowed, images of her brother immediately flashing through her mind. She could almost hear the sound of his breastplate cracking, the rubies that adorned it sinking deep into the water.

"He would have been there," she spoke the words out of false hope. "He would have fought at his side."

"No, your Grace. If that were case, perhaps things would be very different right now," the man sighed. "But Rhaegar knew better. He sent his best swordsman to the Tower. To protect what mattered most."

"My mother," Jon finally spoke.

Reed shook his head. "To protect you."

"Of course he would want to protect his child," Dany said, her hand coming to rest below her navel. "Any mother or father would."

"It is more than that, Daenerys," Bran joined in. "He had two other children by Elia Martell. Little Rhaenys was pulled from underneath her father's bed to be stabbed over fifty times. And her brother Aegon, only a babe, his body thrown against a wall… Who protected them?"

"Bran that's enough," Jon glared at him. He didn't need to know the details of how his half siblings were murdered. He didn't need to know about his father's mistakes.

Reed took a step closer to the pair. "Can you believe that I was the one to bring Arthur Dayne down to his knees? I was not a fighter. Aye, I could swing a sword, but it was never my strength. Never what the Reeds were known for. I dishonored myself that day and I stabbed him in the back. But I did it so that Ned would live to take you home. I worked from the very beginning to ensure the child of ice and fire would be brought into this world."

Jon's frustration was evident in his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak but the man interrupted him, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"I did it for you the same way many in Essos fought for your existence, Daenerys." Howland's gaze now shifted to her. "You two may have lived on opposite ends of the world but your paths were the same, and it brought you here."

"I don't understand," Jon pulled away, now looking to Bran. "Tell me, brother, why did you leave Winterfell?"

"I had to," Bran replied. "To learn, to become stronger. I know so much more now, Jon. I can help you end this. But you have to listen, both of you."

"My children, Jojen and Meera," Howland spoke again, this time a hint of pain in his voice. "I sent them on a mission to set Bran on his path. My own son, my blood, sacrificed himself for the three-eyed raven. But he knew, and I knew; for I spent most of my life in this place, what had to be done so that you would be here today to end this once and for all."

Dany remembered seeing his children in her dreams not too long ago. She watched them, young and eager faces, swearing an oath of loyalty to Bran. _You need to know what happened here,_ little Dawn had told her. _Pay attention to what was said._

"Well then, we should get on our dragons and kill the Night King," Jon said. "We saw Viserion's flames from above. We can't keep standing here and talking while he burns this place to the ground."

"It's not simply about killing him. Your role is to restore the balance in the world, your Graces," the man smiled. "We can no longer have Winters and Summers that last for decades. We must dream of Spring."

Dany's brows furrowed as she thought about what Howland Reed said. She then turned around to face Jon, moving her hand to cup his cheek. "Do you remember what I told you about my dream, my love?" she spoke softly, her voice barely a whisper. "What Bran said when I asked him about the Night King?"

The realizations began to hit Jon, stricking him one after the other. "He wants his life back."

"But he will never get it back," Bran muttered. "That is our only advantage over him. We know it won't work. He has come here to seek revenge upon the Children, which he has done, but he will not be successful in his second goal."

Dany's grip tightened on Jon's hand. "I'm sorry, but are you saying that while we have been standing here, the Night King has been burning away the Children?"

"They knew he was coming for them," Howland told her. "They knew they had to pay for their mistake. We create our enemies, after all."

"We do need to get him off Viserion however," Bran continued. "The end will require a direct sacrifice."

Dany's nails dug into Jon's skin as she turned to face him, her eyes brimmed with tears.

He sighed as he stared back at her, suddenly feeling like he was losing his grasp on the little hope he still managed to hold for the two of them. It was so easy to forget about it all during moments where all he could see was her, where all he could feel was her warm skin against his, where all he could hear was her breath at the shell of his ear when she was asleep in his arms.

But he couldn't refuse it anymore. Not now, not after finding out how many lives were ceded for his own. He couldn't continue to ignore that he was brought back from the dead, that his mother and father died for him, that his half siblings were delegitimized because of him, that the honorable Ned Stark let the whole world think he was unfaithful to his wife to protect him.

 _I am the shield that guards the realms of men._

How could he allow himself to be lost in foolish fantasies where he was nothing but a husband to Daenerys Targaryen and a father to their children? Sometimes he would picture them in a small summer house in Essos, waking up to the warmth of the sun's rays against their skin, to the sound of little feet running around their chambers.

 _I am the shield that guards the realms of men._

The words held more meaning now than ever. _The prince that was promised._ He would live up to the name today.

* * *

Watching.

That's all he could do. Watch the past, watch the present, watch the future. Watch while those he loved died, watch while he forgot who he was.

A Brandon Stark of Winterfell.

 _No. Not anymore._

 _Perhaps one day._

Arya pushed his wheelchair through the snow as they tried to get a closer look at Jon and Daenerys. He could hear her talking to him, telling him off for leaving them, but his mind was elsewhere. He needed to focus.

And then they came to a halt, and he could hear her breath catch despite the deafening roars of dragons that filled the air.

"I want to be up there," she spoke only loud enough so that he could hear.

"I know," he replied, the knowledge coming from his own recollections of his sister. Some memories he had forgotten, but others were as clear to him as the present day. "If you had it your way all the lessons Maester Luwin gave us would have been about the Targaryens and their dragons."

She looked to him, her younger brother, her brows slanting upwards and her hand coming to rest on his shoulder. Their initial reunion after all those year was nothing like she had expected it to be, but every now and then Bran would let a few words slip that would remind her he was still in there.

"The dead one is stronger than the other two," she sighed, returning her gaze to the sky. "How can we help them from here?"

"I can," he told her. "I can help them. But you need to move me to one of the trees."

"Gendry," she called out and the man came to her side. She spoke to him with her eyes and he came to lift him out of his chair, carrying him to rest against the closest bark.

"You should turn your attention to them," Bran told them, looking to the distance where a small group of the dead emerged from amidst the trees.

"Finally," Arya's eyes lit up for a moment, but she turned back to look at her brother. "Will you be all right here?"

Bran nodded his head. "Go. There's quite a few of them."

"We can handle it," she gave him a sad smile, giving his hand a squeeze before she walked away.

He went back to watching.

* * *

Daenerys was tired. Perhaps it was because she was with child, or because she was weak from the injuries she obtained the last time she rode Drogon into battle. More likely, Dany simply did not want to accept the outcome of fight- she knew it had to end with Viserion's death. Although she told herself many times that this thing was not her child, although she fought him before, it remained difficult. For his features were too familiar, touches of cream and gold still visible in his scales, and if she lingered too long on his eyes she could see him as the same little miracle who hatched out of its egg to cling onto her thigh, unable to let go.

Dany could see Jon struggling with Rhaegal. They had plenty of time to bond, and she knew, she knew with all her heart that Jon was destined to be his rider, but something was holding Rhaegal back today. The fight should have been easier, should have been over already with two dragons against one, but it wasn't.

And then it hit her.

While she had Drogon, Rhaegal and Viserion had each other. Of course she loved all three of them but a dragon will only take one rider after all. At the beginning she let them roam free, she let them come and go as it pleased them, wandering over the lands of Essos. But when a goatherd came to her courtroom in Mereen and laid his three-year-old daughter's remains at her feet, it changed everything. Her name was Zalla, and she would never forget it. She promised the father that her bones would be laid to rest at the Temple of the Graces, she told him that a hundred candles would burn night and day in her memory. But it wouldn't be enough, and she knew it. It was one of the hardest things she ever had to do, so against her nature and everything she believed in. The breaker of chained had caged her own children, and in that catacomb Rhaegal and Viserion only had each other.

"Dracarys, Rhaegal!" she could hear Jon shouting to no avail. "Dracarys!"

 _No, my love, that's not what he needs to hear._

"Rhaegal," she yelled, and with his green snout he turned to look at her. "Zūgagon daor. Ziry iksos daor aōha lēkia. Kesir gīmī."

He stared at her silently, and she couldn't tell if he understood her.

"Perzys Ānogār," she reminded him.

Her heart sunk when he let out an earth shattering roar, finally bearing his teeth and releasing his fire into the air. Jon smiled at her from afar, gratitude in his gaze. He may have been Rhaegal's chosen rider, but she was his mother, and that was a separate yet equally powerful bond that he could never bring himself to try and grasp.

The Night King was furious now that both dragons were attacking, and he charged Viserion at Rhaegal with all the strength he had. She flew after them, but Viserion had gone so fast his teeth had already dug into Rhaegal's neck by the time Drogon was able to push him off his now injured brother.

"Rhaegal, daor!" Jon screamed. "Sōves!" he urged him to keep flying but blood was pouring down his neck and he dropped slowly to the ground.

Daenerys hadn't been paying much attention to the ground until then and as she flew closer she saw that Arya, the Hound, Tormund, Berric, Jorah and Gendry were already there, circling Jon and Rhaegal.

She sighed in relief as she watched Jon step off Rhaegal's back, unharmed. She saw the blood from his neck begin to stain the snow but at least he was still moving. _They will be all right,_ she told herself.

"Daenerys!" Arya yelled from below. "Behind you!"

Immediately she turned Drogon around and saw a pair of blue orbs flashing in the sky, coming closer to her from in between the clouds. _Is this the end?_ she thought, feeling the impending doom in the pits of her stomach. He had cornered her- if she moved any closer to the ground the group would get hurt from the fires, and if she tried to fly higher they would clash together, and Drogon wouldn't be able to defeat Viserion on his own.

Suddenly, for Daenerys had to blink twice to make sure her vision was not failing her, Viserion stopped moving. His eyes had turned blank for a moment before returning to their original shade of blue, and the dragon remained static in the air. She looked to the rider and she saw the first emotion she had ever seen on the Night King's face - doubt

She would not miss the opportunity.

"Drogon," she whispered. "Nābēmagon."

And he attacked. He started by blowing flames at Viserion's stomach and Dany's eyes widened as the dragon did not falter. She held on as Drogon charged, grasping Viserion in mid air and pulling him to the ground, his teeth quickly moving to pierce the side of his neck. The Night King fell off Viserion's back first, and the dragon then trailed after him, dropping to the ground and spewing blue flame into the air, screaming and screaming. Drogon followed but made sure to land Dany safely before moving to finish off Viserion.

"Dany!" Jon called out as he saw her on the ground, rushing to her side. He surveyed her with his eyes first, then moved his hands to hold on to her waist. "Are you hurt?"

"No," she whispered, unable to keep her eyes off Drogon as he tore Viserion to shreds. "What just happened?"

Jon's eyes narrowed as he scanned their surroundings. "I don't kn-"

"Jon!" Arya's screams interrupted them. "Jon its Bran!"

They quickly ran to her side, joining everyone who had moved around the Weirwood where they left Bran. His eyes were rolled back in his head, and his body was shaking uncontrollably on the ground.

"Do something!" Arya yelled at Howland Reed, who stood by the tree, unaffected by what was going on.

"He will be fine," Reed reassured her.

"What's happening to him?" Daenerys demanded, kneeling down beside Jon, who was holding Bran's head to make sure he wouldn't injure himself as his body trembled.

"I've seen this before," Jon muttered, thinking of Orell and the Free Folk. _What? You've never met a warg?_ Ygritte mocked him, for that and for many other things. "He is a warg."

Dany looked at him, confused. "A warg?"

"People who can enter other's minds and control them," he explained.

"What is he warging into?" Gendry asked.

"Viserion," Dany realized. "I saw his eyes change and then he stopped mid-attack. We wouldn't have been able to take him down otherwise."

With a final victorious roar from Drogon they could assume Viserion took his last breath. Bran then returned to them.

"Bran," Jon spoke, holding onto his brother tightly. "Bran thank you. You saved them."

He didn't respond, his gaze off in the distance.

"Are you in pain Bran?" Howland asked.

He shook his head.

"It's okay," Howland now looked at Jon and Arya. "He just needs some time."

Daenerys stood up and Jon followed her as she walked towards Viserion and Drogon. He saw the tears in her eyes and wanted to say something, anything to alleviate her pain, but he didn't know any words that could possibly make it better. Instead he entwined his fingers in hers, keeping a tight clasp on her as she stepped into the puddle of blood that was left on the snow, moving her free hand to close Viserion's eyes.

"Iksan sīr vaoreznuni ñuha gevie tresy," she whispered, still leaning against the dragon.

Jon gave her a moment before he took her into his arms, planting a kiss at the top of her head. "It's over now," he told her.

"No," she pulled back to meet his gaze. "It's not. Did you not hear what Bran said? There has to be a sacrifice."

He knew she was right. He wanted to tell her that she would live, that their child would live, that the sacrifice would be him, but he couldn't. She would never accept it. He knew she wouldn't even let him speak the words if he tried.

"Let's go back to them," he said. "Bran will explain things."

* * *

The Night King returned with his four closest companions, all riding their undead horses and holding ice spears in their hands. They were ethereal in their pace, slow but deadly, and there was a newfound determination in the Great Other's eyes that could not be ignored.

"You'll see better from up here, boy," Tormund said picking Bran up from the ground.

"He doesn't look like someone who's just fallen off a dragon forty feet above the ground," Gendry remarked.

"Well of course not, Waters," the Hound scoffed. "He's been alive for thousands of years did you think a little fall would kill him?"

"There's something behind him on that horse," Jorah observed, moving a few feet closer.

And soon they had all seen it. The Night King held a chain in his hand, attached to the leg of one of the Children. She was walking behind them, clearly struggling as she had to lift the heavy chain with her foot every step.

"They kept one alive," Jon said. "Why?"

"I don't know," Howland admitted. "But he has brought her here for all of us to see. He wants an audience."

"We have to stop him," Arya grew impatient.

"No, not yet, " Bran looked at his sister. "I told you, whatever he is trying to do, it won't work. Let him fail."

Daenerys walked away from the group silently without anyone taking notice. She strode closer towards the tree where the Night King was heading, but her eyes remained fixed on one thing.

 _Dawn._

It was her. She felt it in her gut the moment Jorah said there was someone there with them, but moving nearer she got the confirmation she needed.

She had been real all along, and she looked exactly like she did in her dreams- the silver gold hair that fell wildly across her shoulders, the piercing green-eyes that could stare deep into her soul. She was even more beautiful in person, but she was captured and chained... the last of her kind to survive. The guilt was clawing at Dany's skin. Had they arrived earlier perhaps they could have stopped him.

"Daenerys," the girl called out when she noticed her, eyes wide with hope. "Daenerys!"

The Night King turned around, pulling the chain harder so that she would keep moving.

 _I am sorry, Dawn._

She didn't even realize that the rest of them had followed her until she felt Jon's hand on her shoulder.

"Dany," he said softly, bringing his hand up to cup her cheek so that she would face him. "is that-?"

She nodded her head. She had told Jon all about her dreams.

"I don't understand," Arya came by their side. "Why don't we just fight them? There's only five of them, they have no dragon… we could easily take them."

"The Night King is not like the rest of them, Arya. He cannot die by dragon glass or Valyrian steel," Bran explained. "He will only fall when the magic of this place is gone as well."

Once again everyone looked to Bran like he was speaking another language.

"Just watch," Howland said, pointing towards the scene before them.

The walkers got off their horses, following the Night King and Dawn towards the heart tree at the center of the Isle. The Night King moved closer to the trunk, seating himself against it, the face crying red sap just above his head.

"By the gods," Howland spoke under his breath, realizing what was happening before everyone else.

The Night King broke apart his armor, tearing it at its sides to reveal the center of his chest where a piece of dragon glass pierced his sternum. He pulled Dawn closer to him, moving her hand to his chest.

"Of course," Bran spoke, eyes wide. "It all makes sense now."

Dawn wrapped her fingers around the edge of the glass with a heavy heart, for she knew the outcome of what she was about to do.

"If only it were that simple," Howland told Bran.

Before pulling the last of it out, Dawn turned to look at Dany, smiling at her with her cat-like eyes. "Be strong," she reminded her, and then returned to the task at hand.

The dragonglass fell to the ground, and the Night King closed his eyes in response, his fists clenched at his sides, hoping he would open them to find himself a as a man once more.

The other walkers moved closer to him, and one of them picked up the dragon glass from the ground, observing it in his hands.

Finally, the Night King opened his eyes, staring at his hands in disbelief, looking to his brothers for answers. Upon realizing that he had failed at his mission, he opened his mouth and screamed. It was the first time Jon or anyone had ever heard him make a sound, and it was the most inhuman and high-pitched noise that they had ever heard, and it as accompanied by a brush of cold wind blowing hard against their faces.

"Fuck," The Hound muttered. "Is that how they speak?"

The Night King then stood up from the tree, bringing his hands around Dawn's neck and holding her above him, her feet dangling in the air.

"No," Daenerys yelled. "Stop!"

The Walkers turned to look at her, glaring at her their deadly blue eyes.

Jon held her back, moving his hand to pull out Longclaw from its sheath. The rest of the group did the same with their own weapons. Perhaps it would come down to a fight after all.

With a swing of his sword, the Night King killed Dawn, putting an end to her entire species just like that. Her body fell to the snow with a soft thud before he turned to face the living, a wrath like no other unmistakable in his gaze.

* * *

"Bran," Arya grabbed her brother's hand. "Bran, tell us, what do we do now?"

"You can fight off the walkers, otherwise they'll just come in the way," he said as Tormund put him back down to rest against the tree. "But we need the Catspaw dagger."

Arya looked to him with perplexed eyes, staring between her brothers and Daenerys.

"No," she said once she realized the nature of the request. _The dagger that the young wolf holds is key,_ Kinvara had said in their Great Hall. _The promised one must wield the dagger._

She held onto the Valyrian steel with both hands, her voice beginning to waver. "No. There will be no blood sacrifice with this god-forsaken dagger. Don't tell me you believe that Red Woman."

"It's not about that. You have two weapons and Daenerys has none. Give her something to defend herself," Jon lied to her for the first time. "Please, Arya."

She hesitated but she removed the dagger from her belt, eventually handing it to him with trembling hands. She wasn't capable of refusing Jon.

"Now go, sister, we have no time," he said. "I will follow, I just need to make sure Dany leaves safely."

She nodded, giving his hand a squeeze before leaving to join the others who had already gone to fight the walkers.

"Jon," Dany spoke the moment Arya left, grabbing both of his hands with her own. "Jon, do you believe it? Is this really it?"

Tears began to fall down her face, and she made no effort to stop it. She kneeled down beside the tree, his hands still in hers as he followed.

He let go of one to bring it up to her face, wiping away at her tears with his thumb. "I love you, Dany. I love you more than anything. I am so sorry."

She pulled him closer and kissed him, an explosion of passion and regret. A few minutes later she forced herself to pull away from him, moving her hands to the Direwolf pin he gave her all those months ago, letting her cloak fall to the ground.

"What are you doing?" he stared at her in horror.

She was still crying as she undid the buttons of her dress so that the top part of her chest was bare.

"Dany, no," he quickly grabbed her hands.

"Why would you take the dagger if you didn't know this had to be done?" she glared at him. "You have to, Jon. You have to end this."

"Oh, Dany…" he pulled her trembling body into his arms, rubbing circles onto her back. "This is not how it's meant to happen. Don't you see? I would never. I could never hurt you, hurt our child-"

He held her shoulders, moving away so that he could look at her. "It's me, Dany. It's my blood that will end this. You know it."

"I don't."

He sighed. "You knew it all along, I saw it in your eyes the moment Bran said the dagger was my fathers."

Before she could object, Bran spoke, and perhaps it was the first time in a long time where there was a hint of sadness in his voice. "He is right."

Dany was crying harder now and she shook beneath his grip.

"Don't, love, please," he begged her, tears threatening to fall from his own eyes. "I can't see you like this."

 _Be strong,_ Dawn's voice echoed in her ears.

"I can't Jon," she said. "I won't."

Her hands grabbed his, trying to stop him as he pulled his own cloak off, but he was too strong for her. He pulled apart his tunic, revealing the scar just above his heart.

"I will not do it Jon," her tone was serious, frightening even. She was the blood of the dragon after all. "We swore our vows to each other at a tree just like this one. Have you forgotten?"

"Of course not," he smiled, placing a strand of her hair behind her ear. "Dany do you know why I was brought back?"

"Don't tell me it's for this," she shook her head. "Don't tell me that you died and lived only to die again."

"That may be the case," he confessed. "But there is another reason. I lived again so I could love Daenerys Targaryen."

"Jon," she choked, her eyes and face red like rubies. "Please…"

Now he couldn't fight it, allowing a single tear to fall down his cheek. "When I stepped foot into that throne room in Dragonstone… when I saw you for the first time… it was like I found a missing piece of myself that I never knew I needed. You are mine as I am yours, Dany, and you carry a part of me within you."

"Our child will need her father, Jon," she begged. "I can't do this without you."

"You will be wonderful," he shook his head. "More than enough."

He held her hand forcefully, moving it so that her fingers were wrapped around the dagger underneath his own.

"Jon stop it, please," she yelled, trying to pull away, but he held onto her with both of his hands, bringing the dagger up to his chest, its tip only an inch away from the scar he wished to re-open.

"It's all right, Dany," he whispered. "It's all right."

And with one quick movement, he pushed the dagger into his heart with both their hands on the blade. He grunted at the familiar feeling of steel in his chest, and after that the world began to blur. He heard her muffled screams shouting his name, over and over again. He felt the warm blood pour out of his wound and onto the cold snow beneath him, feeding the roots of the Weirwood trees.

Eventually, he closed his eyes.

He expected to see nothing; he expected it to be like the last time. But instead of darkness, he saw light. He was back in that cabin with Dany on the first night they made love. He was staring at her, breathing deeply as he took her in- her flushed cheeks and plump lips, her pupils that had gone wide with love for him. _Gods, have I made a mistake_? He had accepted his death knowing he would feel nothing, knowing he would enter an abyss and forget who he was.

He was wrong.

He saw her, and it was agonizing.

He saw her, and it made him long to be alive again.

* * *

Arya was just about to run her Needle through one of the walkers when she heard the sound of a woman screaming. She tried to make out what the woman was saying but she couldn't linger too long, for she was in the middle of a fight, and although she knew how to spar with less than five of her senses, this was not a game. She needed to give it her all.

However, Jorah Mormont seemed to recognize the screams, immediately leaving to run towards them.

Arya tried to ignore it, looking back to Gendry who was in full focus fighting with his war hammer. He never left her side. Berric and Tormund were up against the Night King, and the Hound was fighting the third walker. The other two were already dead.

Suddenly, the ground started to shake, slowly at first, and then with such an amplification of intensity the red Weirwood leaves started to fall off their branches. Arya could have sworn that the faces carved into their trunks had begun to move as well.

"What's going on?" she asked, despite knowing it was another hopeless question she knew no one would have the answer to.

But then, in the matter of seconds, the walker she was fighting had fallen onto its knees, shaking and screaming as its body grew brittle, ultimately shattering into a million icy shards as it fell to the ground. She turned around and watched the same happen to the other remaining walker, and finally to the Night King himself.

The living stared at each other in disbelief, chests rising and falling in an effort to regain their breaths.

"What in the bloody hells-" The Hound was the first to speak.

The distant cries of thousands then filled the air, and she realized that all the wights that their armies were fighting around the Godseye would have fallen as well.

"It's over," Berric yelled. "By R'hllor, we've won!"

Gendry moved over to her, holding her from her shoulders, concerned that she was not smiling like the rest of him.

"Arya," he looked into her eyes. "It's over!"

 _Then why does it not feel like a victory?_

She tried to shake it off, but she heard the woman's screams again, and this time she could not ignore it.

Her heart sank to her knees when she realized who it was.

Needle fell out of her hand and she ran towards the voice.

 _No, Jon!_

 _Jon, please!_

 _Jon, come back!_


End file.
